Heroes Never Die
by Dark-Elk
Summary: Heroes never truly die, for their accomplishments become legend, and their legacies left to new champions. Chapter 10: Truth Be Told is up at long last!
1. Prelude

Heroes Never Die  
  
Preface  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
The galaxy is a hard place to live in now.  
  
Billions have died since the incursion of the Zerg and Protoss into the Koprulu sector. The fall of the Confederacy and the subsequent rise of the Terran Dominion machinated by Arcturus Mengsk delivered large numbers of populated planets into the clutches of the Zerg. The Overmind fell upon Aiur, and its most trusted agent, the twisted Sarah Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades placed the mantle of leadership of the Swarms upon her shoulders. Ruling with an iron fist, she manipulated the remaining Protoss and James Raynor, leader of a band of Terran renegades, into doing her dirty work for a time and destroying a number of her prime rivals, some of the last remaining Cerebrates. The reborn Overmind similarly fell, as did the majority of the Terran Dominion. In a final apocalyptic battle, the Zerg Swarm defeated the remaining Protoss, the Terran Dominion, the Terran renegades lead by James Raynor, and the United Earth Directorate Expeditionary Force.  
  
The UED force retreated from the Koprulu sector, intent on informing Terra of the plight of the Koprulu sector. The Terran Dominion has similarly retreated, trying vainly to strengthen its' borders to protect its sovereignty. The Protoss have retreated back to Shakuras to rebuild their massive fleets of war to prepare for the next conflict. The Zerg and Kerrigan seem to be pausing to catch their breath before the final push to assimilate the Terran Dominion and the Protoss.  
  
In such trying times, each is forced to look to their own heroes. The Protoss have the deceased Tassadar, the Praetor Artanis, and the enigmatic Prelate Zeratul, currently missing. The Terran Dominion has the charismatic Emperor Arcturus Mengsk. The Zerg have their champion in Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades. The rebellious Terrans have their compassionate Commander James Raynor.  
  
All stories come to an end, and all heroes inevitably fall, but new heroes always arise from the mists of obscurity to carry the torch for their time, and continue their races' struggle. 


	2. Prologue: Queen Takes Knight

Heroes Never Die  
  
Prologue: Queen Takes Knight  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
"Loran, how far away from the traitor are we?" said the creature formerly known as Sarah Kerrigan.  
  
"My Brood found evidence of him on the planet below us, my Queen. I'm not sure how dated the evidence is, but it is the best information we've found so far. Why are you expending so much effort to find this Duran?" said Loran, the controlling Cerebrate of Grendel Brood.  
  
Kerrigan sighed. Explaining matters such as vengeance and honor was useless to a Cerebrate. She often wondered why the Overmind had ever bothered with the troublesome creatures, and had lately settled that on her belief of the Overmind's senility. Loran was better than some of the other Cerebrates, but he still managed to find ways to annoy her.  
  
"Loran, Duran may be a potential military threat. We haven't heard anything about him in a few years now, and I'd rather like to know what he found to be more important than serving me. Besides, he deserted me before the final battle in which we broke the spine of the UED. He had better have a damned good reason, or I believe I will kill him."  
  
"My Queen, part of my Brood is reporting the remains of a settlement on the nearest side of the moon. It appears to have been destroyed recently. . .but I cannot make out what type of weaponry was used. It doesn't look like anything we've ever encountered. We aren't picking up any signs of life remaining down there. I cannot even determine whether this was controlled by Terrans or Protoss. This is all rather confusing." said Loran excitedly. He was a Cerebrate who reveled in his sentience and his higher status above the myriad other members of the Swarm.  
  
"Very well, Loran. Your work is done here. Go back to the border world of Shalaar and begin probing their defenses. I believe they have a Vespene cache that could prove useful to us."  
  
The entirety of the Grendel Brood surged into motion towards the outskirts of the system to group up for the jump through the rift. Kerrigan ignored them, knowing she had a bigger problem on her hands. She could clearly sense a being down on the surface in one of the few forests that hadn't been completely razed, and it seemed indicative of Duran. But why hadn't the scouts of Grendel Brood found him? Perhaps Duran was shielding himself somehow. If that was the case, Kerrigan felt compelled to find out how. . . the technique could prove useful to her.  
  
"Begin the approach to the planet. Come in slow though. We don't want any surprises."  
  
No sooner had Kerrigan finished her orders than the entire landing force shuddered to a halt and began writhing in pain. Duran had unleashed a psychic assault on the sentient minds of the Swarm, and the backlash was reverberating throughout it. Kerrigan could feel the strength of the attack, and she stepped forward slightly with great effort, as if she were walking against a windstorm. Finally, she could bear it no longer and was forced to sink to her knees.  
  
The assault on the minds of the Swarm continued for hours, and the majority of the Swarm was forced to stop whatever they were doing to share in the communal well of pain. In most cases this didn't affect anything, save on the world of Rigel where Urrain Brood had been under attack by a Protoss taskforce. The Protoss quickly took advantage of the seemingly pacifistic Zerg and managed to raze nearly the entire base before the assault finally weakened and Urrain Brood could force them back.  
  
Kerrigan spent her time trying to set up some sort of mental walls to guard her from the effects of the attack. Her efforts were in vain though, because every time she thought she had the right thought pattern the attack would shift and then intensify, wiping out her futile efforts. Once the assault weakened though, she quickly found the correct solution, and passed it on to her Cerebrates. The Swarm lurched back onto their ordained paths, and Kerrigan's attack force began moving towards the moon again.  
  
Kerrigan continued to expand her sphere of awareness out further until finally her mind touched that of Duran. He seemed completely different than he had before. Before, he had been a good military mind, but quite submissive to Kerrigan. Now though, his every thought seemed to radiate power, and he seemed far more venerable than before.  
  
Kerrigan increased the pace of her attack force; she wanted to complete the landing before Duran could cripple it in some way, such as sending Overlords careening into the surface or other such treachery. Kerrigan had no idea of what he was capable of; she was now sure of only one thing: Duran was most definitely hostile.  
  
Her Overlord neared the ground, and she leapt deftly out of one of the openings followed by her honor guard, a small cadre of elite Hydralisks. She landed on the ground in a kneeling position, and all around her she could hear the beautiful sounds her Swarm was uttering as it landed upon alien soil. Kerrigan knew that within the week the planet would be entirely covered in the biomass sarcastically called "Creep" by the Terrans. Kerrigan snorted in disgust. The Terrans were nothing more than vermin that would be crushed within the claws of the Swarm. . .in due time. In the meantime, she wanted to insure the internal security of her army.  
  
She ordered the Zerglings to fan out and begin searching the area. She looked through the eyes of a few of the scouts as they charged through the brush of the forests surrounding the clearing that the attack force had landed in. Suddenly, as she looked through the eyes of a Zergling, the view suddenly cut off. Mildly curious, she shifted views to another and met with the same results. Kerrigan was more than a little nervous now, and began ordering her force into battle positions. As the force shifted around behind her, she noticed that her arrogance had lead her to bring a far smaller force than she should have. No matter, she thought. The Swarm can absorb losses such as these. With that, she stretched the claw-wings that rose from her shoulders, and dashed towards the forest with the entire force surging into motion behind her.  
  
She barely managed more than a few dozen steps before shrieks of pain pierced her mind. She paused and scanned around her to determine the area under attack, and leapt back in surprise as a bolt of energy flew mere inches away from her face. She turned and snarled in the direction of the blast and focused quickly. A psionic storm materialized in the area, and the vegetation was torn to shreds around it. Nothing could be seen, but Kerrigan heard a soft hiss of pain. An Overlord shuddered into motion overhead, lending its empathic sight abilities, and Kerrigan was able to make out the crouched figure of Samir Duran.  
  
His uniform was badly torn, his face was bleeding from a number of shallow scratches, and his right arm was hanging lifelessly at his side. Kerrigan grinned ferally, and the force behind her spread out into a semi-circle where the held position and shifted listlessly, waiting impatiently for the order to attack.  
  
"Duran, are you hurt? I'm so sorry! I really should take better notice of where I attack, shouldn't I? Then again, my accuracy seems to have netted me a traitor!" Kerrigan said mockingly.  
  
Duran only laughed slightly under his breath in response and looked up at Kerrigan. His eyes were different somehow. . .they seemed ancient and powerful. She could see the brief grimace of pain that flashed across his face, and could tell he was stoically shoving his pain away.  
  
"So Duran, what have you been up to lately? I've been rather busy as you may know. You know, defeating the UED, the Dominion, and the Protoss single handedly without one's advisor tends to fill up a schedule. But once that was done, I couldn't very well forget you, now could I? I came to bring you back into the fold, but after your attack upon our arrival I think you made your position abundantly clear. I suppose I shall have to dispose of you. A pity, really. . .we worked so well together too."  
  
"Kerrigan, you are a naïve fool if you believe even for a second that the current state of the galaxy is solely your doing. My masters have rather enjoyed the turmoil you have caused. . . it will make the emergence so much easier. But I digress, really. . .what makes you think that you could kill me?" Duran asked, and his brow raised quizzically. "Really, after all our time together, you never truly understood my true power."  
  
With that, Duran stood with startling swiftness and began yelling at the top of his lungs. Waves of black energy began pulsing off of his body, and the Zerg nearest to him were disintegrated on contact. He raised one hand, and a massive cone of energy sprayed out towards Kerrigan. She cloaked quickly and rolled to the side, and darted towards him. The energy waves were the most powerful thing Kerrigan had ever felt, but she pushed against them until she neared Duran, and lashed out with her claws. She raked him across his chest, but it didn't seem to do anything immediately. Then blue light began pouring out of his chest and flowing across his body, disintegrating any skin it touched. A booming laugh sounded somewhere in Kerrigan's mind, and then Duran spoke again, his voice sounding infinitely old and powerful.  
  
"Kerrigan, what you have done here today has merely sealed your fate and that of the galaxy. It is with my death that the plan moves forward, and with my blessings that my children shall destroy you. Farewell, my Pawn of Blades. . ."  
  
Duran's body flashed brilliantly, and Kerrigan was forced to throw an arm up in front of her eyes to block the light. A massive explosion flung her from her feet, and a roaring sound raced through the small clearing she had created. It stopped almost immediately, and Kerrigan slowly opened her eyes, her face contorted with pain. There was a massive crater where Duran had stood, and the only remaining trace of him was a small shard of black crystal.  
  
Kerrigan walked over to it and picked it up. The crystal felt oily to the touch, and as she raised it to get a closer look the stone seemed like it was seething, as though something were being only barely contained within. She sneered at the stone, and clenched her fist, crushing the crystal. She gasped as she felt the crystal tear into the flesh of her hands, a sensation of fire flooding into her hand, but her Zerg regeneration healed the wounds easily.  
  
She turned and looked around. All she could see was the charred forms of her attack force and the burnt vegetation. As she climbed aboard the Overlord that had been shadowing her, she glanced suspiciously behind her. A vague sense of unease seemed to permeate her thoughts.  
  
She didn't think she had seen the end of Duran's treachery. 


	3. Chapter 1: Beauty in Destruction

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 1: Beauty in Destruction  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
The cluster of starships sailed silently through the inky darkness of space. To the people that crewed them, these ships weren't just machines to fight with; after the betrayal of Arcturus Mengsk and Kerrigan, Queen of Blades', resounding victory in the final apocalyptic battle, these wearied warriors had been left homeless and alone, united under the banner of what seemed to be the last honorable man left alive. These starships were all they had left.  
  
"Sir, sensors indicate a medium-sized frigate is in this sector, far off to the port side. Coordinates are. . . 290 degrees port, and they're at about the same level as we are," said the sensor officer of the Hyperion. He turned to look at the man seated in the captain's chair. "No transponder or IFF beacon data. I'd assume it's hostile."  
  
Commander James Raynor sighed in aggravation as he thought out his response to this unwelcome visitor. "Our Wraiths are still deployed, right? How many do we have fitted with cloaking devices?"  
  
"About two squadrons, Commander," said the tactical officer.  
  
"Send them all to deal with this intruder. That should be enough to deal with a frigate that size."  
  
"Sir, we have an incoming transmission from the starship. I'm putting in on the main viewscreen now," the female communications officer said.  
  
The screen blanked out, losing the display of the star field in front of the Hyperion, and instead showing a tall man in a Dominion captain's uniform. "Rebel Commander James Raynor, by order of Emperor Arcturus Mengsk, you will surrender your ships and your crew immediately. Failure to comply with this order will be considered hostile action, and we will open fire. Respond immediately."  
  
"We don't take orders from the Dominion, and I'll be damned if I'm going to hand my people over to that traitor. You'll have to take them from us, captain," said Raynor, a wry smile spreading across his face. "I don't think you're in a position to make demands. You have quite a few weapon locks on you. Any movement other than reverse will be considered hostile action, and they will open fire. Respond immediately."  
  
Snickers of laughter spread across the bridge, but were silenced as the Dominion captain continued to stare intensely at Raynor. "Commander Raynor, do you honestly think the Dominion would have sent me so woefully unprepared? You, my friend, are in a similar situation. A half-dozen of my Wraiths are in front of you, and all of them have clear weapon locks as well. If you fire, they will fire. Surrender, Raynor; you've got no other cards up your sleeve."  
  
"You obviously don't know me very well, captain. I've always got another card up my sleeve," said Raynor. He caught the eye of the communications officer and chopped his arm swiftly downward. The officer nodded, tapped a few buttons quickly, and waved back. Raynor turned to look at the screen again, smiling slightly as he watched the captain begin speaking again, but the sound was blocked. "Excellent."  
  
Raynor turned to the weapons officer. "Have the Discovery fire off an EMP shockwave right ahead of us. That should deactivate the cloak on those Wraiths."  
  
"Yes sir, that shouldn't be a problem. Whenever you're ready," said the aging weapons officer.  
  
"Charge our Yamato Cannons, and have the nearest Battlecruiser charge theirs as well."  
  
"Yes sir. The Hyperion is charging her Yamato Cannons, as is the Dallant. Ready to fire on your mark."  
  
"FIRE!" thundered Raynor.  
  
Barely contained maelstroms of nuclear energy streaked from the two battlecruisers, dwarfing the thin EMP missile entirely. The EMP struck first, blossoming into a shockwave of energy that surged outwards in all directions. A half dozen Wraiths decloaked, ripples of energy crackling up and down their hulls as their systems deactivated one by one, including life support. This proved to not be much of a hindrance for the pilots as the twin blasts of energy ripped through four of them, spraying halos of debris that mimicked the path of the EMP shockwave. Massive fragments struck the remaining two fighters, further disabling them.  
  
Cheering broke out amongst the bridge crew of the Hyperion, and Raynor struggled to make himself heard to the communications officer. "Tell our boys to try and take that ship. If they can't, tear it to shreds."  
  
The main screen changed from the captain of the Dominion frigate into a tactical map of the area. The squadrons of Wraiths vectored in on the starship with the fury of a pack of Zerg. Missiles streaked through the darkness, impacting against the weak shields of the frigate. A few broke through, impacting dully on the hull of the frigate. Raynor watched as the frigate started firing haphazardly at the fighters, missing with every shot. The poor bastards obviously had no idea where the Wraiths were. A few more missile strikes from the Wraiths impacted, ripping the weaponry off of the frigate easily. The Dominion ship began moving slowly, as if unsure which direction was correct. It stopped turning shortly as it faced the correct direction, engaged the warp drives, and shot off into the darkness. Raynor frowned slightly. The ship's escape meant that he and his refugees weren't safe in this sector anymore. They needed to take care of this business, and get out of here fast. "Okay, Salvage, get in there and see what you can do. We could use more Wraiths, especially ones with cloak generators."  
  
"We're on it sir. What do you want us to do with the survivors, assuming there are any?"  
  
Raynor sighed and mentally wrestled with the dilemma before him. He could detail a ship to return the pilots to some backwater Dominion planet, but the Dominion would then gain some valuable knowledge, such as the location of the refugee fleet staging area. Or he could have them killed, assuming the debris hadn't taken care of that for him. He allowed himself to wrestle for a few more seconds, and then thought of what the bastard Mengsk would do if he were in his position. That settled the argument in his mind, and he immediately did the opposite.  
  
"We're going to let them live. Offer them the opportunity to join us, but if they refuse shove them on one of our older Dropships and set the auto- pilot to jump them to the nearest Dominion held planet."  
  
"Confirmed, sir. It appears that one pilot is alive and awake, while vital signs indicate the other is unconscious. The active pilot is hailing us."  
  
"Communications, put it on the main screen. Let's hear what they have to say."  
  
The main screen of the Hyperion blinks on, revealing the image of a sweaty and seemingly nervous pilot. The image begins to waver around the edges and bursts of static cut into the pilot's voice, but most of what he says is audible nonetheless.  
  
"Hailing Commander James Raynor of the Hyperion. My name is Doctor Jonathan Malcom. I'm a Dominion scientist, or rather an ex-Dominion scientist, because I'm defecting. Will you accept my unconditional surrender? Weapons are powered down, engines are nonfunctional, cloaking field offline, and life support is beginning to be a little temperamental."  
  
Raynor sat back in his command chair contemplating this unexpected turn of events. "How is a scientist piloting a Dominion Wraith? And why are you defecting?"  
  
"This entire combat wing was planning to defect, sir. I used my rank to replace the normal pilot of this fighter for this mission. I'm a qualified Wraith pilot; I graduated from the flight academy with honors." He paused to cough and wipe his brow. "We wanted to defect immediately after entering this system, but we were deployed to combat right after we entered. We were trying to best determine how to deal with the change when you opened fire."  
  
Raynor's breath caught in his chest, and his body felt as though ice water had replaced his blood. "Let me get this straight.you were all defecting? Why?"  
  
"Mostly because of something the Dominion is doing that we all disagree with. The Dominion was going to have us quietly eliminated once they completed this project. We felt that defecting might allow you and your men enough time to stop the project's completion."  
  
"Okay Salvage, pick him up and transfer him over to the Hyperion. If his friend wakes up, put him in a holding cell until I get a chance to talk to him a bit." Raynor contemplated his next move while waiting for the reply.  
  
"Roger sir, moving to recover."  
  
Raynor looked out the bridge window as the salvage barge withdrew from the fleet and plodded towards the pair of disable Wraiths. It approached the Wraith containing the unconscious pilot, and began cycling the air locks to bring it on board. A gout of superheated plasma exploded from the engine nacelles of the Wraith, narrowly streaking past the salvage barge. Raynor stood quickly, watching in horror as the Wraith slowly broke apart. "What the hell was that?"  
  
The bridge was quiet for a few moments, and then the distorted voice of Salvage broke the silence. "Apparently one of the engine nacelles went supercritical, probably ionized from the Yamato blasts and the EMP missile. Sort of odd that it took so long to blow, but there really wasn't anything we could have done to prevent it."  
  
Raynor wiped a hand across his face unconsciously, and reopened the comm. channel to Dr. Malcolm. "Doctor, check your engine status. Are you reading any irregularities?"  
  
Dr. Malcolm was silent for a few minutes before speaking. "I'm not showing anything. That must have been an anomaly."  
  
"I'm sorry about this all, Doctor. If you'd talked to us right away, we could have avoided all of this."  
  
"I know. It's too late to change the past." Dr. Malcolm closed the channel with a heavy sigh. Raynor stared into the darkness and shook his head. He turned back around to face his bridge crew.  
  
"Navigation? Once we've got the doctor transferred, I want a complete evacuation of this system. They've obviously known we were here for a while. Let's not be here for their return. We're going to go to the back up staging point. I want us out of this system in three hours tops."  
  
He looked at the weapon's officer. "Drop some mines and debris to screw with Arcturus' fleet. Make sure we don't leave anything behind that could give him information about us."  
  
"I'll be back in a while. I'm going to meet Doctor Malcolm." With that, Raynor walked to the rear of the bridge and turned out into the main corridor that ran the length of the Hyperion, eager to understand this new turn of events. 


	4. Chapter 2: Soon to Be King

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 2: Soon To Be King  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
"You wanted to see me, Emperor?" asked a middle-aged man as he stepped through the wooden door into the office within. Rich wood covered the walls, lending a sense of splendor to the room.  
  
"Yes, Doctor Parsons, I'll be right with you. Please, have a seat," said the man at the rear of the office.  
  
Arcturus Mengsk stared out of the window of his office into the inky darkness far below. The height of the building reduced the bright lights of the bustling city into mere pinpricks on the fabric of the planet. Mengsk allowed himself a moment of luxury to marvel at the sight of his capital before turning to the person sitting in front of his desk.  
  
"Doctor Parsons, what do you have to say about the disappearance of your subordinate, Doctor Malcom?" asked Mengsk calmly.  
  
The quietness of Mengsk's question worried Dr. Parsons; Mengsk was not known for being quiet. Often what came to mind for most people who had dealt with Mengsk was his booming voice.  
  
"Emperor, the defection of Doctor Malcolm is a setback, but it is relatively minor. His portions of the Starlancer research and development have been long completed, and he's since been confirming and optimizing his research. I'm sure he got tired of the work and ran off to be a hermit or something. I don't consider him to be a problem or a liability at this moment."  
  
"Then I suppose it would surprise you," Mengsk said, his voice slowly growing louder, "that Doctor Malcom did not do as you have predicted, and instead joined the rebel group lead by James Raynor?"  
  
Dr. Parsons sat heavily back in his chair, his face passive. He hadn't been worried too greatly about the man's disappearance. . .but defection? That was a different story, a story that Emperor Mengsk wasn't pleased with.  
  
"Yes Emperor, I'm most surprised. Doctor Malcom never struck me as someone who would be willing to join such a group. He went through the Dominion flight academy and graduated at the top of his class with high honors. After that he was discovered to have a remarkable scientific mind, and was enlisted on a number of top-secret projects before finally being assigned to Project Starlancer. Nothing in his profile suggests that he could possibly find the thought of joining a rebel group appealing. On the contrary, his profile indicates he has a deep passion for order and justice, neither of which I would imagine he would find among the uncivilized rebels Commander Raynor leads."  
  
"I don't give a damn about your predictions, Doctor. They were wrong, regardless of what they were!" Mengsk thundered. "You scientists are all the same. You make your predictions, your studies, your observations, but you eventually screw up, and it's people like myself that are forced to clean up the messes."  
  
Dr. Parson seemed to wish to comment, but a glare from Mengsk silenced any objections he might have had.  
  
"Doctor Malcom knows about Project Starlancer. Not only that, but the techs have discovered evidence of him stealing information from our network, so now he has evidence. If he gives it to Raynor. . .I don't want to think of what he could do with the information. Do you realize that the entire Dominion will rebel if knowledge of Project Starlancer is made public? They won't give a damn that we'll use it to win the war against those damn aliens. . .they're going to see it as another example of 'Dominion repression tactics' as the media recently stated."  
  
Dr. Parsons swallowed hard; Mengsk was right that he hadn't realized the ramifications of an information leak fully. He quickly and carefully thought of the only possible response.  
  
"It is fortunate at least that Doctor Malcom did not possess the location of Starlancer.. All of his work was done remotely, because most of it was only theoretical."  
  
Mengsk grimaced. What he had to say now galled him more than the defection of Dr. Malcom. He enjoyed the squeamish look upon Dr. Parsons's face though; clearly the man knew he was arguing for his life.  
  
"Wrong again, Doctor Parsons. The group of Wraiths Dr. Malcolm lead to defect to Raynor were all part of the Omega Sqaudron battalion stationed at Starlancer for security purposes. He somehow managed to transfer these pilots away from their garrison and into active duty. After that, he managed to transfer himself to this flight wing, because as you mentioned, he graduated from the flight academy with high honors. He was more than able to pilot a Wraith, and for some reason none of the officers that could have prevented his transfer know anything about it. If he transferred the pilots from Starlancer, he obviously knows where it is. It is my opinion he discovered the location during his pillaging of our information networks, but the technicians have been unable what exactly he stole. At this point, it no longer matters to you."  
  
Mengsk favored Dr. Parsons with a feral grin, watching as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Mengsk was confidant that Parsons knew what was coming next. Dr. Parsons's vision blurred slightly, and he had difficulty seeing Mengsk as more than a vague, blurred shape.  
  
"Doctor Parsons, in the terms of an ancient game played on Earth, that was three strikes, and you're out. Your administration of Project Starlancer has been bungled horribly, and I don't see any need to keep you in command," Mengsk said, still grinning. "Furthermore, you are now a security risk for this operation. You will be eliminated."  
  
Dr. Parsons jolted up from his chair quickly, or rather tried to. He felt a boot press itself onto the center of his chest, knocking him backwards to the floor. A knife suddenly appeared, floating in mid-air, and sped quickly towards Dr. Parsons, striking him in the throat.  
  
Dr. Parsons had time for a parting shot at Mengsk, and grasped it.  
  
"Damn you to hell. . ."  
  
His vision slowly collapsed as darkness ate away at the edges. Mengsk laughed, the first time he had shown actual amusement.  
  
"No, Dr. Parsons, I believe that you will be in hell before I will. After all, the deaths that I can cause with the Starlancer project you nurtured into being can be partially blamed upon you. I am not a God fearing man anymore; my sins have long since been committed, and I doubt there is absolution enough to expunge them. Fortunately, I don't intend to die any time soon."  
  
With those final words ringing in his ears, Dr. Parsons gasped once and then died. The blur on Mengsk's desk shifted, revealing the svelte form of a young woman. Her long black hair was streaked with white locks and tied into a long ponytail. She was dressed in the daily uniform of a Ghost rather than the environment suit that was required in the field. A C-10 Canister Rifle was slung over her shoulder, a belt of knives similar to the one in Dr. Parsons throat across her chest. She reached over and pulled the knife from his throat, wiped it on a cloth on Mengsk's desk and replaced it on her belt. She turned and smiled at Mengsk.  
  
"Was that theatrical enough for you?"  
  
"Yes Lina, that was more than adequate. It never ceases to amaze me that the majority of the upper crust elite of the Dominion don't know that my lover is an amazingly skilled Ghost; with the media the way it is, I figure that should be common knowledge."  
  
Lina chuckled and slid off the desk. She stretched her arms high above her head, and then turned to Mengsk.  
  
"You're right, it is astonishing. I suppose that most of them would rather not pay any attention to your son and his origins if they could avoid it. It could lead them to know far too much about you. People who find out too much about you and your history have a tendency to meet unfortunate and messy ends," she said, waving at the body of Dr. Parsons behind her. "Ends such as the one this scientist met. Anyway, how is Domis doing, Arcturus? I haven't seen him in a very long time, you know. Active duty and all."  
  
Mengsk returned his gaze to the window overlooking the cityscape below.  
  
"Right now he's magistrate for a border colony so far out I can't even be bothered to remember the name. There aren't many resources there, and very little worth colonizing, but at least the job is giving him administration experience and keeping him out of trouble," said Mengsk. He sighed softly. "Lina, I just don't know how we ended up creating that boy."  
  
Lina snorted in humor and said, "I'm sure you remember the process Arcturus; it is a mandatory course in school, you know."  
  
Mengsk chuckled softly. Lina had a wonderful sense of humor; it was one of the things that had first attracted him to her, and seemed to be rare among Ghosts. Most were far too grim or maniacal to be considered sane.  
  
"You know very well what I mean, Lina. An extremely talented Ghost for a mother, the Emperor of the entire Koprulu sector as his father. . .and we ended up with a boy who has no tactical sense and barely any political skill. He doesn't even have any psionic talent like his beautiful mother, which closes your path in life off completely."  
  
Lina sighed and walked over the window. She wrapped her arms around Mengsk reassuringly. His son's skills, or lack thereof, was a source of continual disappointment and worry for him.  
  
"Yes, but I'm sure his skills will mature in time, whatever they may be. You certainly didn't start out as a politician. You just need to give him time."  
  
"I hope you're right, Lina. I would rather die than give the reins of the Dominion over to him such as he is now."  
  
"Such melodrama, Arcturus. I'm sure all Domis needs is an opportunity."  
  
Mengsk nodded slowly. "I'm going to hope it won't take the same circumstances for him to realize his potential as it did for me. That path will require me and those closest to me decapitated by a trio of Ghosts, like my father was."  
  
Lina moved her face close to Mengsk's ear, whispering softly into it. "I'm here, and nothing will happen to you so long as I live. That little I can guarantee."  
  
Mengsk turned and kissed her. Breaking their kiss, he said "I know, my love."  
  
He pushed himself away from the window, and began walking towards the far wall. He thumbed a button on his desk as he walked past, and a section of the wall became translucent. A broad map of the Koprulu sector formed, showing a fiery swath of red down the center marking off the borders of the Terran Dominion. One side of it was little more than a massive purple area, delineating the conquered worlds of the Zerg lead by the Zerg bitch, Kerrigan. A much smaller section showed the contracted borders of the Protoss. Aiur wasn't among their holdings any longer, something that pleased Mengsk greatly. The alien bastards had annihilated many in the opening days of the war, and he thought it was nice that someone had stolen their homes away from them as well. It kept things fair. Mengsk wished that he knew where their new home world was. It would make such a delightful test for the Starlancer. . .  
  
Looking at his map always brought him back to reality, back to the power struggle that had consumed the Koprulu sector so fully, the sector he had scrambled over and double-crossed to where he was now, emperor of the majority of humanity in the sector. He drew in a deep breath, and sighed softly. "Lina, these factions gather around my feet like ants, but even enough ants can topple a giant. The Zerg are the greatest threat, of course, but the Protoss are becoming stronger every day, regardless of how many strikes we launch at their forward bases. Of course, I cannot forget Commander Raynor. . ."  
  
A white area appeared on the map, resting across the boundaries of the three races. "His convoy raids are becoming more and more daring. . .and with the knowledge I know he has gained from Doctor Malcolm, I have no doubt he will attack the Starlancer, and probably sooner than later."  
  
Lina nodded. "That would be a wise move. You shouldn't look at Doctor Malcolm's defection as a wholly negative move, though."  
  
Mengsk turned to her, a surprised look on his face. "What do you mean? The Dominion needs the Starlancer badly. . . if Raynor destroys it, this war could drag on for centuries, assuming the Zerg don't overrun us soon."  
  
"But this situation could let you solve many problems at once. If you pull Domis away from whatever menial task you have him doing now, give him command of the largest fleet the Dominion can create without weakening it's defenses, and send him to defend the Starlancer, you could conceivably destroy Raynor, keep possession of the Starlancer, and give Domis a good beginning to his career."  
  
Mengsk laughed. "The boy has no tactical sense, Lina! He'll probably order his Battlecruiser onto a suicide run, or something even more asinine. I don't think we can take the chance. . ."  
  
Lina held up a hand to silence Arcturus. "That's why you send a few of the military geniuses you have locked away in think tanks. They aren't doing you any good there now that the war has slowed down, and if you put them in command of the fleet under Domis's guidance, they can make him look like a genius."  
  
"You'll need to silence them once this mission is done, you realize? We can't afford any unfortunate leaks to the media. If Domis is going to do this, it needs to be perfect."  
  
Lina smiled softly. "Silence a few military geniuses to ensure that our son has a bright future? I don't have a problem doing it, and I highly doubt such a mission would tax my skills in the least."  
  
Mengsk sighed happily as he thought of a universe without Raynor. "Very well. We will use Domis as the hammer and Starlancer as the anvil. I only hope that Raynor acts as we predict and obliges us in becoming smashed into oblivion."  
  
Mengsk touched a small pad beside the map and turned away as it slowly returned to the texture of the rich wood that covered his walls. "So Lina, what do you have on your agenda for the next few days?"  
  
Lina frowned. "I've got to go pay a visit to a Vespene miner who's contemplating leading a strike in two days, but I'm completely free until then. Why?"  
  
Mengsk turned to her and favored her with the roguish grin that had so entranced her years ago. "Because after I send Domis to do this for me, I've got some free time as well, and I thought we could catch up a bit."  
  
Lina smiled broadly, and they both walked out of Mengsk's office, already planning their well-earned vacation weekend. 


	5. Chapter 3: Figments of the Imagination

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 3: Figments of the Imagination  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
The flight of Wraiths slashed silently through the void of space, all but invisible with their cloaking fields activated. Ahead of them the massive Dominion convoy meandered slowly through space, its guards languishing in the ease of their duty. A click flashed across the Wraiths communications systems, and they quickly burst apart, scattering like leaves in a maelstrom. They began to form a loose circle radiating from a single Wraith, and rotated in complicated orbits around it, guarding every possible vector. Finally, the convoy was within hailing range, and the central fighter opened a channel.  
  
"Captain of the Dominion convoy 3381-D, this is UER Commander Talas Owens, leader of Firespray Squadron. I hereby demand that you power down all weapons systems, lower any defenses, and prepare to be boarded."  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
"What the hell is the UER? Someone get me some intel fast!" yelled Captain Aaron Malcolm.  
  
The command center of the Star Child exploded into motion as the deck officers began furiously pounding on the keyboards before them and conferring with their subordinates. The science officer was the first to notice something familiar about the Wraiths that were around them.  
  
"Sir, this doesn't make any sense, but the cloaking signals on these Wraiths aren't like anything in use in the Koprulu sector, nor are they retrofitted Protoss technology. I believe, sir, that these may be from Earth."  
  
Captain Malcolm sank back into his command chair deep in thought. Earth fighters in the Koprulu sector again? Could they have hazarded sending another fleet to take control again? But what was the UER?  
  
"Give me onscreen communications with the lead Wraith, and keep digging up as much information about these Wraiths as you can. Try and figure out how many there are out there ASAP!"  
  
The communications officer's fingers flew across the keypad, and then he rose one hand into the air quickly, signaling the gear's readiness.  
  
"Commander Owens, before I agree to anything I demand additional information. What is the UER, and why have you attacked us?"  
  
A crackle of static followed the Captains questions, and it was a few moments before Commander Owens answered. "Captain, the Dominion has fought against us before. We are the United Earth Remnant, and we are the only remnants of the UED presence in the Koprulu sector. We need supplies and your convoy has exactly what we need. If you surrender peaceably, you will be returned to the Dominion, minus your ships and cargos of course. Should you respond with hostility, we will take you down. We have over three squadrons of Wraiths out here, and we more than outmatch the pitiful fighter support the Dominion has allotted you. I am giving you exactly two minutes, and then I demand your response." With that ultimatum, the communications channel hissed, and then disconnected.  
  
The bridge of the Star Child erupted, with the various bridge officers and advisors all clamoring to be heard. Captain Malcolm sat stoically through about half a minute before standing up and yelling "Shut up! Nothing any of you is saying is going to save our lives. Calmly, one at a time, should you feel you have something constructive to add to this rousing discussion, please feel free. Time is ticking, gentlemen."  
  
The tactical officer was the first to speak, although rather hurriedly. "Sir, our force is severely outgunned. He's right, our fighter complement is far too weak to fend off their attack. Our capital ships' guns are too slow to target the Wraiths. Sir, we're basically defenseless against them."  
  
"Are there any Dominion battle groups that could reach us within five minutes? Surely we could survive for at least that long," pondered Captain Malcolm.  
  
The tactical officer touched a few buttons on his panel, and pointed to the main viewscreen, which was now displaying a navigational chart. "These are the positions of Dominion forces in relation to us. The battle group Hydra under Zeta Squadron might be able to reach us in ten minutes if they choose to respond to our distress signal. If not, well, I wouldn't want to be us, sir, because there's no one else who can get to us in time to do anything more than recover our bodies."  
  
"If that's all we can do, we have to take the chance. Comm, send the distress signal to them via encryption channel AGILF-998. The UED, rather, the UER, shouldn't be able to break that encrypt fast enough unless they have a Science Vessel in the area. After that, we just stall," said Malcolm, and then turned to the sensor officer. "Are you picking up a Science Vessel anywhere?"  
  
"No sir, just the faint contacts with the Wraiths. I think he may be bluffing though. I can only see emissions of about two squadrons of Wraiths. It's still far too many, but we may be able to hold them off long enough to." He broke off as the klaxons of the Star Child began blaring as more than eight dozen Wraiths suddenly appeared in front of it.  
  
"Holy . . .shit . . ." was all Captain Malcolm could manage to sputter out.  
  
"Captain, the commander of the UER fighters is hailing us again. I'll put it onscreen," said the communications officer. He, like the rest of the bridge crew, was sweating profusely.  
  
"Your gamble has failed, Captain Malcolm. I am giving you one last chance. Surrender, or I will be forced to tear your convoy to shreds and be content with the salvage. If you don't think I can do all that in the ten minutes it will take battle group Hydra to get here, you're sadly mistaken." said Commander Owens. "Save your crew, Captain Malcolm. Your supplies aren't worth all of their lives. As I told you before, if you surrender none of your men will be harmed, and we'll return you all to the Dominion."  
  
"Fine, you win. We're powering down shields and weapons now," said Captain Malcolm dejectedly. He had hoped to come out of this alive and with medals for retaining his cargo; instead he was being delivered an ignoble defeat and a dishonorable return to Dominion space. "We're cycling our aft locks to prepare for your boarding party."  
  
He terminated the communications link, and then turned to his bridge crew. "Order the entire convoy to wipe their computer cores of all information, regardless of level of classification. They should have enough time to do that. We don't need the UER getting such a large information boon from us. Also, I want a dozen men to go to the cargo hold. Do whatever damage you can to the mission critical cargo, but leave the food and weapons alone. If we destroy those, I don't think Owens will be quite so willing to return you all to the Dominion" He sighed. "Call off the reinforcements, tell them we've been taken. No sense in them coming to rescue us now. Cooperate with the UER to your fullest capacities. No sense in anyone else dying."  
  
With that, he turned to regard the starry horizon in front of him, the Wraiths moving to encircle the Star Child. With one swift movement, he drew his pistol, and placed it to his temple. The bridge crew looked on in horror as the Captain looked each of them in the eye.  
  
"The Dominion can't afford to lose what I know to these bastards. This is the only way."  
  
A slight nod to the bridge crew prompted many of them to turn around, sparing them from the sight of Captain Malcolm squeezing the trigger of his pistol.  
  
-_-_-  
  
"Commander Owens, I am Lieutenant Naro Saman, and I've been sent to lead you and your crew to the bridge," said a young boy nervously as the UER crew stepped through the airlocks.  
  
"Why is Captain Malcolm not here to escort me? Tradition dictates that the captain surrender his ship," asked Owens.  
  
"Captain Malcolm is no longer in charge of this convoy, Commander Owens. He committed suicide a short time ago," said Saman as he stepped out of the way. "Now, if you'll follow me, we can formalize the surrender." With that, he began walking down the corridor.  
  
"Why did the captain commit suicide, Lieutenant?" asked Owens, a little off guard.  
  
Saman turned as he squeezed through the narrow corridors. "The captain was a man of honor, Commander Owens. The thought of such ignominious defeat as this must not have been pleasant. That is the only reason I could see."  
  
Owens just shook his head. "There's nothing honorable about suicide," he muttered under his breath. "How far is it to the bridge?" he asked aloud.  
  
"A few dozen meters. The Star Child isn't a very long vessel, but she's wide enough to make up for it," said Saman. "We're going to regret losing her."  
  
"Lieutenant Saman, all is fair in love and war. Now, if you and your people were willing to defect to the UER, I'm sure I could see to it that you'd retain possession of this fine vessel," said Owens as he ducked under a low bulkhead, narrowly avoiding a concussion. "But I don't see that happening."  
  
Saman turned back, his face showing only a hint of his anger. "Not a chance. We swore our oath to the Dominion, and we're not going to break it," he said. "Here is the bridge. I'm afraid I cannot accompany you."  
  
Owens nodded his thanks and gestured to a pair of his men that had followed diligently behind. "You two go in first." The pilots drew their sidearms and nodded, stepping through the door in unison. To their relief, the rain of gunfire they had half-expected to appear didn't. They scanned the bridge crew, looking for a trap of some sort, but couldn't find any. One of the pilots turned and waved Owens in.  
  
Owens looked around the small bridge, meeting the gaze of each crewmember before turning to another. His eyes glanced to the foot of the captain's chair, where the captain's body had thankfully been covered by a long piece of cloth. "Who is the ranking officer of the Star Child now?" he asked.  
  
A young man stepped forward, his light blue eyes burning with shame. "I am, sir. Navigator Eric Wheeler."  
  
Owens nodded in acknowledgement. "Are you prepared to surrender your vessel?"  
  
Wheeler looked away for a few seconds before answering. "I want to confirm the terms first. You said you were keeping our ship and our cargo, and that we were being dropped off on a Dominion held planet by one of your ships. Which planet?"  
  
"What is the nearest Dominion planet, Navigator Wheeler?" asked Owens.  
  
"From here? Probably Tarsus IX."  
  
"Then that's where we'll return you. Is this satisfactory?"  
  
Wheeler nodded. "I surrender the Star Child and this convoy to the UER."  
  
"I accept your surrender," said Owens. He extended his hand to Wheeler, but wasn't surprised when Wheeler walked away. "Very well. Please move to your aft airlocks. We'll begin boarding you on the return vessel."  
  
The Dominion crew filed off the bridge slowly and silently, heads bowed. Wheeler and the weapons officer both grabbed an end of Captain Malcolm's remains, carrying his body off of the bridge. Owens lingered on the bridge for a moment more, looking at the pool of blood the Dominion hadn't bothered to clean.  
  
"And they wondered why the UED came out here to take control," Owens wondered aloud. He shook his head and walked off of the bridge, his two pilots in tow. 


	6. Chapter 4: Project Starlancer

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 4: Project Starlancer  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
"You're not lying, are you?" asked a rather distraught Raynor.  
  
"No sir, I'm afraid not. Everything I've told you is completely true and verified by the documents and technical data contained on the disks over there," said Dr. Malcolm, nodding towards the rear of the bridge where a number of techs were working on the disks. "All of that information is straight from the Dominion network."  
  
"Boys, what do you have to say about this?" Raynor asked, turning to the techs. The lead tech turned from his work with some irritation.  
  
"It's still too early to tell for sure, sir. In my opinion, the data seems to be on the level. I couldn't imagine any reason the doctor would have to falsify anything like this, so. . . " the lead tech's statement hung unfinished, but Raynor had already turned back to look at Dr. Malcolm.  
  
"Put it on the screen. Let's see what we're dealing with. Doctor Malcolm, explain what you can. None of us here happen to be rocket scientists," said Raynor, spurring chuckles from most of the bridge officers. Dr. Malcolm stood and walked over to the massive viewscreen that occupied the fore of the bridge.  
  
"Open up file 338217 please; if my memory serves that should be the one with the visuals. That should give you all a sense of how important this problem is". The lead tech fiddled with a few buttons on his console and then raised a hand in the air. The file loaded onto the viewscreen, quickly occupying it with the words "Project Starlancer".  
  
Murmurs broke out among the bridge officers, and Dr. Malcolm calmly waited until they silenced. "As you can see, the name of this project is Project Starlancer. This project has widespread ramifications for all factions in the current power struggle. Please advance to the next image."  
  
A highly detailed diagram of giant sphere appeared on screen, slowly expanding to provide greater detail to the minute features. "Project Starlancer is the codename for the development of this massive space station. The external features you see here are actually structures and relay stations built on the surface of a small moon that orbits the primary planet of the Borosk system. The moon has barely enough gravity to sustain a slight atmosphere; humans have been able to survive on the surface for short periods of time without any additional gear. There are, to our knowledge, no life forms native to the moon or to any planets in the Borosk system."  
  
Dr. Malcolm paused for a moment, trying to put his thoughts in order. "The moon is being fitted with massive repulsors, such as those that allow a Vulture to hover. By my estimates, the Dominion has completed about eighty percent of the installation. The entire station should be fully operational, if they continue their current pace, within a month."  
  
"Why would the Dominion go to the trouble of installing repulsors on this moon, doctor?" asked Raynor.  
  
"A repulsor, for those of you who do not know, works by manipulating magnetic fields and gravity to literally repulse the ground. The repulsors used on this moon are massive enough to allow it to use entire planets as substitutes for ground. It uses them to move, at least through space for short distances. For any long journey, the moon is able to go to warp like any starship. This moon can move anywhere it wishes to," finished Dr. Malcolm.  
  
"So you're telling us the Dominion made this moon able to jump around through space? Why?" asked Raynor skeptically.  
  
Dr. Malcolm coughed before continuing. "The Dominion didn't just make this moon able to move, Captain Raynor. I said that the repulsors allow propulsion from planets. . .but if the moon is stationed equidistant between two large masses, the gravitic forces are able to move other planets, even those many light-years away."  
  
"So this moon can go anywhere it wants by manipulating gravity and move other planets?" asked Raynor.  
  
"Yes. The military implications of the ability to move planets are astonishing. The next time a planet rebels against the Dominion, rather than deploy an entire task force and possibly sustain casualties, the Dominion can use this weapon to thrust the planet into the nearest star. Clean, effortless, and few side effects; no one of any race will dare challenge the Dominion once this weapon has been demonstrated. The Zerg will be defeated, but at the cost of giving Mengsk the power to annihilate any planet that isn't marching to the beat of his drums," said Dr. Malcolm.  
  
A squadron leader in the back of the room raised his hand. "Does this thing have any weak points?"  
  
"The Starlancer's only weakness is its greatest strength; if the repulsors are disabled, the moon will be crippled in space."  
  
Raynor stood up abruptly. "Then that's what we'll do. Helm, swing us about towards the location of this weapon. We're going in weapons-hot."  
  
Dr. Malcolm sprang forward. "You can't possibly take that on! Don't you realize that if the weapon can move planets, your small fleet of starships can be swatted like flies? Not to mention that the moon has surface defenses and in all likelihood a fleet escort nearly as large as the one defending the Dominion capital! Sir, you can not possibly hope to win alone against this."  
  
Raynor turned and glared at Dr. Malcolm. "Helm, belay that order. What do you suggest we do then, doctor?  
  
"There is only one viable option, at least as far as I see it. You've worked with the Protoss in the past, most notably Fenix, Tassadar, and Zeratul. The Protoss have had the past few years to advance their technology when they haven't been fighting off the Zerg. They have a fleet large enough that, once combined with yours, should be able to disable the surface guns."  
  
"Are there any ground defenses? Anything that would hang up a strike force to disable the repulsors?" rasped the ghost named "Pyre", commander of Raynor's covert ops division.  
  
"At the time of my defection, there weren't any. I'm sure that some measures have been devised, but may not have been implemented yet. The surface guns are in place already, and they are supposed to be able to shoot down anything trying to get close enough to drop off a landing party."  
  
Raynor nodded. "Our first stop should be to contact Shakuras to see if we can talk Artanis into giving us a hand. I don't think he should have much of an objection, because this thing affects his people too. Hopefully he can tell us where Zeratul is, because the last time we spoke Zeratul had vanished," Raynor turned to the helmsmen. "Set course for Shakuras at maximum possible speed. The longer we let that thing sit out there, the better defended it'll be when we show up."  
  
Raynor walked over to the main viewport and stared out at the starry blackness. Barely loud enough for even himself to hear, he whispered "I'm not even sure we can take this on then."  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
Dr. Malcolm walked down the cramped hallway to the quarters he had been assigned. The briefing had gone fairly well, although he mentally cursed Captain Raynor's near spur of the moment attack. That would have ended disastrously. . . for both of his allegiances.  
  
A duty officer charged through the crowded hallways, elbowing people out of his way. Dr. Malcolm stopped walking and moved to the side, allowing the man to pass by him easier, but instead the officer stopped and turned to him "Doctor, do you have any relations?"  
  
Dr. Malcolm paused. "Yes, I have a younger brother, Aaron. He's captain of the Star Child; it's a Dominion cargo ship. Why?"  
  
"Doctor. . .the Dominion news just played an emergency broadcast. One of their convoys was ambushed by an unknown force. The Dominion claims that it was a convoy raid staged by Commander Raynor, but it wasn't. Your brother is listed as dead. I'm sorry."  
  
Dr. Malcolm looked stricken. He leaned against the bulkhead behind him and held his head in his hands. When he looked up, the officer could see the tears "Did they. . . recover his remains?"  
  
"No, they didn't. Apparently the unknown force demanded his convoy surrender, and the crew would be returned to the Dominion. It seems rather than return them, they were instead taken hostage, because they should have been returned by now. Your brother is the only one currently listed as dead; the Star Child's comm. officer managed to relay that before they were silenced."  
  
"I. . . I need to be alone. If Captain Raynor needs me, tell him where I am."  
  
Dr. Malcolm turned and walked slowly down the corridor, his body language projecting an aura of deep remorse. Aaron and he had been very close years ago, and Dr. Malcolm would have felt deep anguish at the though of his death up to five years ago, up until his life changed.  
  
He palmed the door of his quarters, leaning heavily on it for visible effect. The door slid open, and he stumbled inside, the door silently closing behind him. Then he began to laugh, a low, dark laugh. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, oddly shaped device. Roughly ovoid, the device had a small aperture on one face, and a small button on the other. He pressed the button, holding it down until the aperture ejected a small spear of light that slowly coalesced into a tall humanoid form, concealed by a dark, flowing cloak.  
  
"What is your report?" asked the figure in a voice that sounded darker than the void itself.  
  
"Raynor has agreed to ally with the Protoss to attack the Dominion weapon."  
  
"Excellent. You have done well. Contact me if the situation develops in an unexpected direction. Otherwise, continue as you have been instructed"  
  
Dr. Malcolm released the button, extinguishing the spear of light. He turned and lay down upon his bunk, staring at the rough NeoSteel ceiling. He started to close his eyes, and as they formed slits, they flashed a dark, blood red before closing completely. 


	7. Chapter 5: World of Darkness

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 5: World of Darkness  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
Artanis held his breath in suspense, hoping against hope that the incoming Carrier had aboard the important passenger its' ID said it carried. If it did, the entire Protoss race would rejoice, knowing that he had returned after such a long sojourn.  
  
The Carrier Tassadar was being afforded an entire military honor guard; dozens of Scouts and Corsairs were clouding the space around it. All were weaving intricately around the surface of the Carrier, projecting the illusion of the hull of the Carrier shifting randomly.  
  
Finally Artanis could wait no longer, and was forced to ask the question that was hovering among the many Protoss minds gathered in the area.  
  
"Is that you, Prelate Zeratul?"  
  
The soft chuckle that echoed across the speakers of the fighters in the area elicited a cheer; it was instantly recognizable as that of the Prelate himself.  
  
"It is indeed, my young Praetor. This honor guard is impressive to say the least. I wasn't aware that my return was so fiercely awaited."  
  
It was Artanis's turn to laugh now. Zeratul seemed the same as always.  
  
"Welcome home, Prelate. You have been gone far too long, and we have great need of your leadership. The Zerg have been quiet lately, but the Dominion. . ." Artanis's voice trailed off "We aren't really sure what the Dominion is doing."  
  
"Young Praetor, I believe it is time that I spoke with you and whatever passes as leadership on Shakuras. I have a matter far more grave than that of the Dominion or the Swarm. But before I arrive, I must know.have you heard recently from Commander Raynor?"  
  
Artanis bowed his head sadly. "No, Prelate, I'm afraid we have not spoken with him in some time. At our last meeting, he was planning to continue leading his band of Terran renegades. I have thought for some time that we should perhaps seek out Raynor. . ."  
  
"It must be done immediately, Praetor. With the ill news I am bearing, we will need every last ally we can find." With that chilling statement, Zeratul ended the conversation, and the Tassadar began moving towards Shakuras again.  
  
Artanis felt a wave of ice slide down his spine, and slowly swung his fighter around until he could view Shakuras again. He hadn't had the heart to tell Zeratul that he was the only leadership on Shakuras, and that many of the Protoss who had been settled there had since left to found other colonies. The Conclave had never been reformed, and there was no other qualified to become a Praetor. He often thought at times that even he wasn't skilled enough to lead his people, and that he had been chosen merely because he was the closest one at hand. Shaking off the depressing thoughts that were clouding his mind like a fog, he engaged the drive of his Scout and punched the thrust button. He wanted to be the first to greet Zeratul upon his return.  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
"You have been away too long, Prelate," said Artanis as he walked with Zeratul. "Much has changed among our people."  
  
"Change is inevitable, young Praetor, but while some things change, others remain as stalwart as time itself," said Zeratul. His voice sounded stressed, and the philosophical banter he used to engage in seemed forced.  
  
Artanis stopped and turned to Zeratul. "What is wrong, my friend? Never even during the height of the Brood War were you as worried as you seem now."  
  
"You would do well to remember that although the Brood War ended, Kerrigan's forces run rampant throughout the Koprulu sector still, and the Terran Mengsk is clenching the Terran worlds in his grasp. We did not need another threat during these times, but fate is not merciful."  
  
Artanis's eyes betrayed his shock. "Another threat? Our fleets are having enough trouble staving off our enemies. A new enemy could well prove our end."  
  
Zeratul slowly nodded. "You have no idea how right you may be. We must speak to the new leaders of Shakuras now."  
  
Artanis steeled himself for Zeratul's reaction. "I. . .am the only remaining leadership on Shakuras. The Conclave. . .the people chose not to recreate it.. They believed that the old one was part of the reason our people had come close to extermination before. They believed that I would be better able to resist the Zerg without restrictions placed by a Conclave."  
  
Zeratul's reaction was not one Artanis had predicted. He had predicted perhaps anger, or maybe sadness, but not the joy that came to Zeratul's face. "The people could not have chosen a wiser leader, Artanis."  
  
Artanis, still stunned from the unexpected joy, nevertheless barked out a short telepathic laugh. "Of course they could have. There are any number of people more qualified than I; I went from Praetor of the Fleet to effectively the only ruler of the Protoss. I don't have the skills, the prestige, the experience. . ." Artanis trailed off for a moment. "You would have made a much better choice, Prelate."  
  
It was Zeratul's turn to laugh. "I have pondered this matter long and hard, Praetor. I had nearly expected to return to lawlessness, a lack of authority and strong leadership. I would have been more than willing years ago to step into such a power vacuum, to lead to the extent of my capacities. The return voyage gave me much time to think, Artanis, and I realized that what we face now isn't what we've faced ever before."  
  
"I do not understand, Prelate. We have been under siege by the Zerg for years now, and the Terrans have plotted against us times innumerable. Though our losses have been heavy, we remain."  
  
Zeratul nodded. "Yes, but those were during Kerrigan's ascent to power. She was still nascent, still achieving control over the Broods, weeding out traitorous elements, separating the chaff from the grain. The Terrans have united mostly under the banner of Mengsk, and he calls for our extermination. The Brood War is over, young Praetor. We have entered the time of the Hybrids, and this conflict cannot be solved by the aging, like myself. This is your time, young Praetor, not mine."  
  
"Hybrids? What do you mean?"  
  
Zeratul sighed. "I have been away far too long, Praetor, and I have kept this horror secret, even though I knew it would only cause more trouble in the future. I didn't want to believe the creature that took the form of Duran. . .but I know now what he said was anything but lies. He told the truth, Artanis."  
  
"I do not understand, Zeratul. What does the traitor Duran have anything to do with these Hybrids?"  
  
"He created them, Artanis, under the orders of another race. The Hybrids are to this race as we were supposed to be to the Xel'Naga; champions of their cause, unequaled in battle. From what I have been able to gather, the ancient enemy we were to resist. This enemy exists outside the dimension we now, and were the enemies of the Xel'Naga. The only name I have for this race is the Scourge."  
  
"The Scourge? Where did you get that name from?"  
  
"During my travels, I undertook an expedition to a number of planets that had been sites of Xel'Naga experiments. At one I uncovered what appeared to be their equivalent of a command post, and managed to retrieve much information from within. The Scourge and the Xel'Naga struggled for eons, it seems, and much of their "evolutionary research" was really just manipulating races into becoming warriors for them, meddling with entire planets to hold the Scourge at bay. I only learned the smallest amount about the Scourge during my travels, despite my efforts. The Scourge is the exact opposite of the Xel'Naga; while the Xel'Naga were creators, the Scourge are destroyers."  
  
"So this Scourge has created a new race to defeat us? Let them come!"  
  
"You do not understand, Praetor. The term "hybrid" was not merely chosen to name this new race; the Hybrid race is indeed a true race of hybrids, comprised of the strengths of the Terrans, the Zerg, and though I am loath to say it, they also contain the genetics of the Protoss."  
  
"This is madness! They have blended our races? These creatures are abominations, twisted replicas of the First Born!"  
  
"Nevertheless, Artanis, the Hybrids were created expressly for the termination of our three races. What better way to defeat a race then embody its' greatest strength along with the strengths of its enemies?"  
  
Artanis backed against the corridor wall as the realization finally struck him. He slowly slid down the wall until he hit the floor, and cradled his face in his hands. "How can we possibly defeat such a race, Zeratul? Perhaps at the height of our power, we might have stood a chance, but now? Now we stand all but defeated, crushed in the palm of Kerrigan and her ilk."  
  
"You must not give up hope, Artanis. With the aid of Raynor, we may yet find a way to resist these Hybrids. Perhaps they will recognize the Zerg as the greatest threat and attack them before us. All we need is time to prepare, Artanis. Offensive war takes genius, but defensive war takes preparation and time. I have much more confidence in our ability to defend ourselves than in our ability to assault the Hybrids now."  
  
Artanis nodded, and slowly climbed to his feet. "You are right, Prelate. We must alert Raynor at once! The sooner we begin preparations, the better. Although we have been at a continual state of war, much has changed since your leave, Zeratul. We have new technologies, new abilities that perhaps the Hybrids may underestimate. After we find Raynor, what we you suggest our next course of action be?"  
  
Zeratul's thought deeply for a few moments before coming to his conclusion. "We must leave Shakuras behind, Artanis. We must find a new world from which to stage from."  
  
"You cannot possibly believe that the Protoss would uproot themselves from both of their homes, and move to a new world, Prelate! The loss of Aiur and the assault upon Shakuras were the most devastating events to happen in our race's history since the Aeon of Strife! The Protoss would rather die now than leave Shakuras!"  
  
Zeratul nodded. "I know, Praetor. That is why I said we must find a new world to stage from, rather than a new world to populate. The Protoss cannot lose Shakuras, Artanis, it would be the final stab to our race's heart. If we move only the vital workers, the leadership, and the military to this new world, we will be able to better organize and construct new fleets, train new soldiers. If we do this, Artanis, we will divert the war from Shakuras for a time, hopefully long enough for a commander to construct the most impenetrable defense imaginable, enough even to ward off the Hybrids."  
  
"Your plan is sound, Prelate. We will seek Raynor and begin the search for a new world at once."  
  
Another Protoss dashed into the corridor, bowed respectfully to both leaders, and said "You wished to be notified of Commander Raynor's location, Praetor and Prelate. He has contacted us, requesting a meeting immediately. He has said he has news of a new threat to our peoples."  
  
Artanis and Zeratul looked at each other. "How can he possibly already know of the Hybrids, Zeratul?" asked Artanis.  
  
"I do not believe he does."  
  
"Then. . . there may be another threat?"  
  
"Indeed, Praetor."  
  
Artanis sighed. "As though we didn't have enough at hand. Inform Raynor that we shall meet him as soon as he reaches Shakuras."  
  
The Protoss replied, "My apologies Praetor, but Commander Raynor has requested a meeting in another location, one he cites is more secure. He insisted that the meeting be held there."  
  
"Very well. Inform him that we will meet him as soon as we can."  
  
The Protoss left quickly, but Artanis and Zeratul lingered for a few more minutes. "Zeratul. . . does this change anything we should be doing?"  
  
"I do not believe so, young Praetor. More factors in the galactic equation may benefit us, should the Hybrids find it more threatening. I must reserve judgment for the moment; it is entirely possible this new threat is more formidable than even the Hybrids."  
  
"Let us go learn then, Prelate, and hope that things do not worsen anymore than they already have." 


	8. Chapter 6: Prison of the Past

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 6: Prison of the Past  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
"What is Rancor Brood's estimated time of landing, Jendrel?" asked Kerrigan idly. She could have learned the answer in less time than it took to ask the question, but she was feeling sluggish right now. Besides, she was a queen, the Queen of Blades, and she shouldn't have to work for everything she wanted. Who would dare argue?  
  
"My Queen, Rancor Brood will be arriving in about three minutes. Do you wish for me to lead the attack, or. . ." Jendrel trailed off uncertainly into silence.  
  
"Or do I wish to lead it? I think I will lead it, Jendrel. After your embarrassing failure at Novax VII, you should be glad you are still alive. The Overmind certainly wouldn't have tolerated such a failure, but the Overmind was also a senile fool. You will establish a preliminary garrison during my transit to the surface."  
  
"As you wish, my Queen." Jendrel's presence disappeared from Kerrigan's mind, leaving her alone again, alone to bask in her ecstasy. She was still on top of the galactic conflict, something the Overmind surely wouldn't have been able to manage. She mentally saluted the poor creature for awakening her powers; without it, who could tell where she would be today?  
  
The reminiscences opened up a path of thought Kerrigan hadn't traveled down in years. James. . .Jim. She sighed; he was a remnant of her old life, before she had become powerful. Now he was little more than a nuisance, but she wasn't sure what to do about him anymore. Surely he could be infested, made to serve the Swarm like she had been. Then she would have him to herself again. . .but no. She could never put Jim through the infestation. Knowing how much it had changed her, who knew how James would turn out? He could end up as mindless as a Drone, a mere servant of the Swarm, not a leader.  
  
Mengsk. . .there was another name from her past that resurrected memories, memories she had thought she had dealt with during her campaign to reunite the Swarm under her banner. She had allied with Mengsk, served his ends as he had hers, and he had ended up emperor of a new Dominion, more powerful than before, but still little more than a thorn in her side, something to be dealt with at her leisure. She knew exactly how she would deal with Mengsk on the day the Dominion fell. . .the man would be tortured, forced to undergo the mental shattering that Kerrigan had succumbed to, recreated as a servant of the Swarm, a mere plaything in Kerrigan's hands, much as she had been to him. She would leave him just enough free will, enough intelligence, to know what he had become. She would let him linger for years, slowly being killed off a piece at a time, and then being allowed to regenerate, and then the process would be repeated. Kerrigan was sure she could make his suffering last years, possibly decades even. And it would still not be a fitting punishment for the backstabbing snake, but it was all she looked forward to now. The day would come soon. She could feel it.  
  
The shuddering of the craft she was ensconced in signaled that the move to the surface was taking place. Her mind instinctively drew clusters of aerial Zerg towards her command pod to deter any possible threats as the pod entered the atmosphere. The fact that the interior of the craft did not heat up even slightly was a testament to the bioengineering of the Zerg; were it not for the slight shifting the pod was undergoing caused by the air currents, Kerrigan might not have even noticed she had entered the atmosphere.  
  
Her mind spread out, diffusing itself through the Brood below. Looking through the eyes of her minions, she could see the once-tranquil surface, already being blanketed by thick layers of creep. The base seemed to be securing itself nicely; the Hive in metamorphosis would complete shortly and begin wresting control of Nlloth from its inhabitants, a small, independent Protoss colony.  
  
Suddenly an alarm flared in Kerrigan's brain; she cycled through the senses of the Brood until she found the source of the distress. A patrolling Overlord had spotted a small band of Protoss, apparently Dark Templar. She pondered only for a few seconds about a course of action before grinning and urged her pod to hasten the landing process. The dull thud that signaled landing was Kerrigan's cue; she sprang out of her seat and out of her pod without breaking stride.  
  
Kerrigan breathed deeply of the air of Nlloth, savoring the flavor. Each world had its own unique scent, Kerrigan had noticed, and no two were even remotely the same. Nlloth had a sterile, bland taste, almost like chalk. She wondered briefly if the air had any toxic chemicals in it, but dismissed the though almost immediately. Members of the Swarm had nothing to fear from poisons, especially those found naturally.  
  
Kerrigan stalked off in the direction of the Templar, noting the feel of the ground. Soft, sand-like, but still firm enough to walk easily on. The Swarm would have an easy time burrowing through such a surface, not that it needed such help. This world would be easy to pacify; the thought of Kerrigan personally leading the assault would be enough to make even the most battle-hardened of commanders' waver. For now though, Kerrigan wanted to enjoy her own personal sparring match with this group of Dark Templar.  
  
The Overlord continued heading north towards the base, leaving the Templar alone and cloaked again. Kerrigan focused for a moment, and watched with pleasure as her body cloaked completely, leaving her on equal ground with the Templar, or at least what would have been equal ground years ago. Kerrigan had at least one thing to thank the Protoss for, most notably Zeratul. Her time among them as their erstwhile ally had proven enlightening, and she had since mastered the ability to faintly detect the Dark Templar merely by their dark psionic emanations. Since then, she hadn't had much occasion to put her talents to full use, but now would be a good refresher course.  
  
A flicker in her mind gave her enough warning that the dark ones were nearby, and she reached out to the group, tagging all four with their own unique psionic marker in her mind so she could differentiate between them. She had fought dozens of Templar at once before, but never this many Dark Templar. Her resolve wavered only slightly, and then she darted into action.  
  
The dark ones must have heard her movement, because they all exploded into movement as well. The lunge that would have impaled one of them on her wing-talons she was now forced to turn into a somersault, bringing her back into a standing defensive position. Scanning again, she could feel the dark ones conversing, and turned to the nearest one. Her mind created a psionic storm above the Dark Templar almost without a second thought; the mental pain forced upon the single Templar was enough to make the normally stoic Protoss cry out in anguish. Grinning, Kerrigan walked towards him, talons prepared to strike. He drew his Warp Blade as the psionic storm waned in power, and turned towards her and stabbed in one smooth movement. Kerrigan dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade. She cursed in the Terran language, and ordered her Overlords to her position; somehow an Observer must have snuck overhead and revealed her location. She smiled and decloaked, paying close attention to the retreat of the Templar.  
  
"Is this how far the First Born have fallen? Four Dark Templar retreating before a single warrior?" taunted Kerrigan.  
  
A roar of fury caused Kerrigan to turn and deliver a quick snap kick to the abdomen of one of the four, sending his body skidding across the ground until it collided with a rock formation. The Templar lay unmoving for a few moments, and then slowly stood, favoring his left leg. Kerrigan favored the group with a smug grin.  
  
"Is that the best you can offer? You don't deserve to live anymore, Protoss meddlers."  
  
The three uninjured Templar drew their swords in succession, readying themselves for battle. The trio cloaked, and Kerrigan could sense as they fanned out, encircling her loosely. Her Overlord sluggishly floated overhead, finally revealing the Observor. Roaring in fury, she let her powers explode in a massive gout, shattering the fragile probe and leaving a spray of debris to rain down onto the surface. She laughed loudly, and called to the Protoss.  
  
"Your Observer is dead, dark ones. This is an uneven contest now. Surrender or die."  
  
One of the Templar retorted angrily from far left. "Never, foul Queen. Who knows what sort of gruesome experiments one such as you would undertake with us? You have no honor."  
  
Kerrigan smiled broadly as she launched another psionic storm at the voice. She could hear a hiss of pain as the Templar dodged through the storm, narrowly saving his own life. Something slashed across her left arm, nearly severing it from her shoulder. It was her turn to cry out in pain as she turned and lashed out with her long wing-claws. She could feel them punch through the body of the Templar who had attacked her. He decloaked as he died, and Kerrigan watched with enjoyment as his glowing eyes flickered and then fell dark. She turned around again, eyes scanning the battlefield. She could feel her Zerg genetics healing her body; bones knitting, flesh regrowing, lost blood being steadily replaced. Her arm fully healed, she rotated it a few times to stretch it out, and then called out to the Templar.  
  
"Nice try. He's dead now, but there's still one left who I haven't had a chance to acquaint myself with. Where are you, coward?"  
  
The Dark Templar decloaked in front of her, Warp Blade held loosely in one hand. "You are a fool, Kerrigan, and you shall pay dearly now for your arrogance."  
  
Kerrigan tried to lunge at the Templar, but smashed into something a few feet in front of her. She rebounded back into another invisible wall, and steadied herself. She pounded a tightly clenched fist at the walls, screaming in fury when she found she was trapped. She looked around for the source of the walls, but only the Dark Templar was visible.  
  
"Curious, foul Queen, as to the nature of your prison?" The Protoss raised a hand, and Kerrigan gaped in disbelief as she looked in the direction he had pointed. A craft was hovering in the air; it looked similar to an Arbiter, but smaller.  
  
"The craft you see is called an Imprisoner, Kerrigan. It emits beams that solidify space, similar to a stasis field generated by an Arbiter. The cage you are in is unbreakable."  
  
Kerrigan calmed herself and then smiled as a thought came to her. "Nothing is unbreakable, especially not that ship. My Swarm will crush this base and free me, and I'll give you all a slow, lingering death for your transgressions. No one can dare imprison me, for I am Kerrigan, Queen of Blades, leader of the Swarm!"  
  
The Protoss only laughed. "Should you destroy the ship, you would be imprisoned for all eternity. The field can't be disrupted by the ship through destruction. It isn't powered by the ship, but rather from a base that controls all of them. Even destroying that base won't free you. You are trapped until you are freed by my hand, which I assure you will not be any time soon."  
  
Kerrigan sank to the ground, the rage in her heart only mildly dampened by the thought of eternal imprisonment at the hands of the Protoss. "You. . . you wouldn't dare. . .I'll issue orders for the Swarm to pummel Shakuras and everyone on into star dust, I'll have the Broods drag Aiur into a star." Kerrigan became emboldened by these visions and stood again. "I'll infest every one of you, keep you alive merely to torture you to the edge of death."  
  
"You won't be doing any of that, foul Queen. Should you attempt to, you will be killed, leaving the Broods without leadership, mere pack animals to be slaughtered at leisure."  
  
Kerrigan gave into the rage and focused her mind at a point in the invisible wall. She slammed every ounce of psionic power she possessed into cracking the wall, but the wall seemed slippery to her abilities, and the power diffused harmlessly along the wall. She sank to her knees again and pounded the ground with her fist, tears in her eyes. Her strength couldn't possibly defeat this. She was stunned at how thoroughly she had been captured.  
  
"This was a trap, wasn't it dark one? The sole purpose of this base was to capture me." Kerrigan said hesitantly.  
  
"Indeed, foul Queen. We weren't sure if you would lead the attack personally, but we anticipated your arrogance correctly it seems."  
  
Kerrigan nodded. They had predicted her perfectly, these Protoss. She could do nothing to end her imprisonment. Reaching out with her mind, she touched the mind of Jendrel."  
  
"Jendrel, I've been taken by these wretched First Born. Order the Broods to remain in position while I seek a way to escape, and activate the Narasthil Brood and its' experimental Cerebrate. Take your Brood and meet up with Loran and Grendel Brood."  
  
"As you wish my Queen."  
  
Kerrigan looked up into the darkening sky, her tears beginning to cloud her vision. Caged, humiliated. . .defeated. 


	9. Chapter 7: Smoke and Mirrors

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 7: Smoke and Mirrors  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
"UER Control, this is Commander Owens of Firespray Squadron. We're inbound now with a Dominion convoy in tow," said Commander Talas Owens. "We dropped the convoy crew off on a Dominion moon before we left, so we're completely clean, no losses."  
  
"Commander Owens, the admiral sends her congratulations, and orders that you have your subordinates oversee the landing. She wishes to see you personally upon your arrival at Vengeful," said the voice of one of the anonymous Control personnel, her accent making every word seem exotic.  
  
"Copy Control. Firespray Lead is coming in for landing. Firespray Duece?" asked Owens.  
  
"Yes sir?" Firespray Duece was a young man, maybe in his young twenties, one of the younger pilots the UER was forced to employ.  
  
"Duece, oversee the convoy rendezvous on the surface with the bulk haulers. They know what to do, and you shouldn't have any problems."  
  
"Roger sir, we'll have this convoy down and emptied out ASAP."  
  
Owens returned his hand to his flight stick, lazily turning his fighter towards the space platform Vengeful where the command crew oversaw the planet below. The station was an agglomerate of trash and spare components added onto the remains of a battered Behemoth-class Battlecruiser. It only barely managed to hold orbit, and keeping the life support operational was a continuous uphill. Scattered lights flickered in seemingly random combinations across its' rough surface, delineating the approach vector for the docking bays. Owens had flown this approach vector more times than he could possibly count, and was already lost in his thoughts as his body automatically carried out the approach.  
  
We're lucky to be here, thought Owens. If that Zerg bitch Kerrigan had been a bit more diligent, we wouldn't be.  
  
The UER had formed much as Owens had told the commander of the Star Child, from the battered remnants of the UED Expeditionary Fleet. After the startling and decisive loss to Kerrigan in that final battle, where against all odds the Zerg had managed to turn a battle that was against them three to one into pure victory, the UED fleet had consolidated its' forces and begun the long trek back to Terra, intent upon gathering a larger fleet and returning. Kerrigan had discovered the retreat, and sent the majority of the Swarm streaking after them, nipping at their heels until finally most of their fleet had fallen to attrition. In a final apocalyptic battle, the UED commander had sacrificed nearly two-dozen damaged Battlecruisers, detonating all nuclear warheads onboard in succession. The devastation had annihilated most of the Zerg following them, but had deprived the UED of its' much needed supplies and firepower. Without the supplies that had been upon those Battlecruisers, the ragged assortment of Wraiths, Valkyries, Dropships, and Science Vessels didn't have the choice to leave the Koprulu sector and retreat to Terra anymore. Only a trio of Battlecruisers had survived, the Czar, the Intrepid, and the Picket. All were in various stages of destruction, but had retained their flight engines and most of their weaponry. The trio of Battlecruisers became the nexus for the fleet, and the remainder of the support craft clutched to them as they sought out refuge amongst the worlds on the fringe of the Koprulu sector.  
  
Finally, after two nearly fruitless years of searching, the engines on the Intrepid began to fail. The remnants of the UED were already too few, and knew that they needed every life to continue to survive in the Koprulu sector, but the other Battlecruisers' life support systems were already failing. The last world the fleet jumped to was, by an amazing twist of fate, a near-perfect world for Terran colonization. The temperature was perfect, the atmosphere a near replica of Terra, and no sentient species graced its' surface. The fleet ceased its' vagabond voyage, claiming the world for their own, naming it Sanctuary. A base camp was set up on the surface, primitive at first, but slowly being built up until it was a lone city on an otherwise primitive planet. The crew of the Intrepid was offloaded to the surface, and the Battlecruiser slowly morphed into the space platform Vengeful as more quarters and weapons were added onto the immobile cruiser. The command staff took over the cruiser as their own, managing the new UER from orbit. Resources were abundant on Sanctuary and its' twin moons, and the UER quickly regained the capabilities to manufacture their own starships, but only Wraiths and Valkyries were within their grasp.  
  
Owens glided softly into the docking bay, a small smile gracing his lips. He remembered the turbulent entry of the UED fleet, the battle that ground it to shreds, and every step until Sanctuary had been stumbled upon. He liked to think that there was some greater power amongst the stars, guiding the wayward fleet after their humiliating defeat, and that was why they had found such a bountiful world. He flipped a few switches on his command board, and his landing repulsors activated with a surge of energy. A few more switches powered down his engine nacelles, and he glided on the repulsors until he reached his designated deck space. The repulsors snapped off, and his craft dropped a few feet onto the metallic deck plating with a bone-rattling thud. He slapped the button for his flight canopy with his left fist, waiting patiently as the mechanism tested external air pressure, and then finally flipped open. He hopped out of his Wraith, landing on one of the Wings. The fighter shook from the impact, and he waited for a few moments before leaping down to the deck. A few mechanics sauntered over to him.  
  
"Commander Owens, how did it go?"  
  
"Fine, thanks. No losses, not even a shot fired," answered Owens with pride. "The Dominion forces just folded up and surrendered. The convoy has some pretty nice equipment, so you boys may want to get yourselves over to Requisitions to claim it as it comes in. Wouldn't want those guys on the surface to get it, would you?"  
  
One of the mechanics grinned broadly. "No sir, we wouldn't. The ground- pounders don't need that kind of stuff anyway. Does your Wraith need any repairs, Commander?"  
  
"The port alluvial dampener acted up a bit, but nothing too major. Shouldn't be a big problem, I'd think. And you could probably see if you can squeeze a little more speed out of those engines if you have spare time."  
  
"No problem sir!" The UER mechanics loved the opportunity to "optimize" fighters; only rarely would they be able to improve performance, but it gave them something to do during the boring moments. Besides, if they did stumble onto a useful modification, promotions and pay bonuses often followed.  
  
Owens walked out of the hanger, leaving the ecstatic mechanics behind to marvel at the new gear they could soon possess, and all the wonders they could perform with it. He shook his head and laughed as he entered the lift. He punched in his keycode and the code for the admiral's office with a rush of anticipation. He and the admiral had been romantically involved with each other for nearly two years now, and her welcomes upon his return were always something to look forward to. The lift shuddered into motion, quickly spanning the gap between decks. A buzzing noise signaled his arrival, and he touched a pad beside the door. The doors slid smoothly open, and he stepped out into a small hallway. Only two doors were in this hall; one led to the admiral's office, the other to her private quarters. Over the past few years, Commander Owens had spent much time in both rooms.  
  
He walked over to her office door, knocking sharply upon the thin metal. A muffled shout within invited him in, and he opened the door and walked in. The admiral was sitting behind her desk with her feet kicked up upon it, smiling broadly at Owens. Long brown hair was tied in a tight bun at the base of her skull, but her bangs were left long in the front, and her tanned skin and well-developed body had made more than a few other officers jealous of Owens. For Owens, her looks meant little, because she hadn't been given the rank of admiral for her looks. Underneath her beautifully sculpted face lie the most brilliant tactical mind the UER had possession of.  
  
"Tracy, it's been far too long," said Owens. "What have you been up to for the past few weeks?"  
  
Admiral Tracy Hirsch's smile grew wider, and she said "The usual. Commanding the UER fleet, coordinating long distance strike forces. Missing you."  
  
"I missed you too, dear," said Owens as he bent over and kissed her. A few moments passed, and then they broke their kiss. Owens sat in the chair opposite the desk, knowing that business did need to have some place in this reunion, and the sooner it was finished, the sooner they could enjoy themselves.  
  
"Talas, your mission went well, yes?' asked Tracy.  
  
"Yep. No shots except the one the Dominion captain felt compelled to fire into his skull."  
  
Tracy laughed, and asked "What all did you salvage from the bastards?"  
  
"We got the convoy tender that the captain was on. . .the Star Child, if I remember right. We liberated about a half dozen Wraiths, none of them fitted with cloaking fields, and we got the convoy ships of course. Bulk haulers, but useful nonetheless. And of course we got all the supplies they were carrying. The bastard captain wiped the databanks of the Star Child, but we got to one of the bulk haulers before it got the chance, so we've got some new intel on Dominion activities," He thought for a moment before continuing. "The soldiers that boarded the Star Child say it looks like something was destroyed in the hold before we got there. They had no clue what it was, so maybe the techs can figure it out."  
  
"Excellent, Talas! All of that will be helpful for future missions, especially that data from the hauler. You know as well as I do that Dominion intel is more valuable than the equipment you dragged back."  
  
Owens nodded slowly. "After we had control of the ships, we herded the Dominion crewmembers over to a transport," Owens paused as he pulled a datapad from his pocket and punched a few keys, "The DuGalle-class transport Strident. They were going to go drop the crew off on one of the colony worlds. They left shortly before we did, so I'd imagine they'll be back soon."  
  
Tracy's face was passive for a few moments before she spoke again. "Probably the best decision you could have made under the circumstances. As much as loathe giving the Dominion back their soldiers, killing prisoners is not an option. If we started killing innocents. . .we'd end up like the Dominion."  
  
"I guess that's about the whole of the mission, Admiral Hirsch. Zero casualties and wounded, no damage to our assets. . .all in all, an outstanding success."  
  
Tracy barked a short laugh. "That'll teach the Dominion to send out such poorly guarded convoys. A half-dozen Wraiths and a convoy tender guarding such a large convoy filled to the brim with materials and intel, not to mention whatever was stashed in the Star Child's hold."  
  
She laughed again, but cut it short as a small yellow light began blinking on her desk. She swung her feet off of the top and flipped up the communications screen. She looked over at Owens and nodded briefly. He stood and exited the room with a brief wave and a slight smile on his face. Admiral Hirsch returned the wave, and then activated the communications screen. A male technician with a gaunt face smeared with swatches of grease appeared, and saluted her briefly.  
  
"Admiral, Commander Owens wanted us to notify you if we discovered anything about the object that was destroyed in the hold of the Star Child. We're not entirely sure at this point, but it appears to have been something incorporating both Terran and Protoss technologies."  
  
"Any idea what this object's purpose was?"  
  
"We're not too sure. Technician Jens took a look at it, and she said that the Protoss technology that was part of this seems to be something dealing with gravity manipulation, like a repulsor or an engine. It's curious though. . .it doesn't look like it was meant to propel something. That's just a guess though."  
  
Admiral Hirsch's face slowly drained of color. "I need all the information you can gather about this device as soon as possible. Contact me again when you discover something new."  
  
She reached over and turned off the display and rubbed a hand across her face, trying to understand this new information. What could the Dominion be doing with Terran and Protoss technology that needed a device that could manipulate gravity? Her mind wandered for a few moments before the answer presented itself. The Dominion bastards were designing a weapon that used gravity. Her heart sunk as she hoped she wasn't right, and she reached over to press the door button let Owens back in. As her finger pressed the button, a red light began flashing on her console. Across the office the door slid open, and Owens began to walk in. He caught sight of the red light, smiled sheepishly, and walked back out of the office. The door slid shut behind him, and Admiral Hirsch tapped the button to activate the display again.  
  
"Admiral, we've just received a distress signal from the Strident. It. . .it doesn't look good. They sent video feed. Would you like to view it?"  
  
Admiral Hirsch nodded, and the screen changed into an array of a half-dozen security camera views. An explosion boiled through one of the bulkheads in one of the cameras, spraying debris across the hallway. The smoke rolled across the camera, temporarily obscuring the view for a few seconds before it cleared. A trio of figures entered through the newly created entrance, smoke swirling around them as they floated down the hall. Admiral Hirsch leaned closer to the screen, her eyes straining to recognize what the figures were. All she could make out was that the seemed to look like the Protoss, but they seemed to have an ethereal quality about them, as though she could look directly through them. She chided her imagination, trying to keep in mind that the smoke was distorting the cameras.  
  
One of the figures halted and turned to the camera. It raised its' hand, and the last view the camera showed was a massive spray of energy streaking towards it. The Admiral lunged backwards out of surprise, but then she leaned forward again. The other camera leads were still playing; one was showing the Dominion prisoners milling about in the hold of the Strident. One of the intruders entered the chamber, pausing only slightly as a few of the prisoners rushed towards it. The figure drew a dark blade from its' side, quickly slashing and killing the attacking prisoners. The remaining prisoners started screaming and running around frantically, but the figure efficiently and methodically slew them all, one by one. The figure turned to the camera, destroying it with another energy blast.  
  
Two more cameras had been destroyed while Admiral Hirsch watched in horrible fascination, leaving only the two that centered on the bridge. The UER crew had armed itself and barricaded the door, but as the Admiral watched the doors glowed for a few seconds before exploding inwards, crashing through the assembled defenders. One of the bridge crew could be seen crawling along the floor to a bridge station. He dragged himself up to the console, tapped a few buttons frantically, and then turned to the camera and saluted briefly before drawing his sidearm and opening fire upon the figures.  
  
The figures both had their dark blades out, blood slowly dripping off the edges. The rest of the bridge was an abattoir; fragments of bodies were strewn across the deck plating, and blood was splattered liberally across the bulkheads, almost decoratively. The figures advanced slowly, seemingly relishing in the fight this target was offering. The spray of bullets continued, but the crewmember either had horrible aim or the figures were somehow deflecting his bullets. The blades flashed a few times before the figures backed away, the mangled remains of the crewmember plainly visible. Alarm lighting flared on, causing the figures to look around, clearly confused. The screens all blanked out, and then the camera feeds died, replaced by the communications officer.  
  
"That's what they sent us. The pattern of the lighting suggests that the crewmember, who we've tentatively identified as Gunnery Sergeant Ryan Fields, activated the self-destruct sequence for the engines. We've been unable to raise them since this was sent."  
  
Admiral Hirsch brushed away the tears that were slowly dripping down her face, and asked, "What the hell were those things?"  
  
The officer shook her head. "I'm not sure, Admiral. Intelligence hasn't had enough time with this video, but even they are at a loss. If we had the Strident in our possession, perhaps we could figure it out, but if the engines were detonated, I doubt there will be any remains."  
  
"Is there anything in the media about this?"  
  
"Dominion news media is running a story saying that Captain James Raynor of the dissident group Raynor's Raiders ambushed the convoy and took them hostage. No official response has been issued from the group, and there probably won't be any, knowing him."  
  
Admiral Hirsch nodded slowly. "Call me if you figure anything else out." Again she pressed the button to open the door. Owens walked in again, pausing at the doorway.  
  
"Can I stay in this time?" he asked with a smile, but it quickly faded when he saw Admiral Hirsch's somber face. "Tracy. . .what happened?"  
  
"The techs called and said they think the device was some sort of gravity manipulator. I think it may be a weapon. And the communication officer just relayed the final communication of the Strident to me."  
  
The color in Owens' face slowly drained, leaving behind a dull ashen look. "What the hell happened?"  
  
Admiral Hirsch pressed a button on her desk, activating the large view screen on the wall. A few more buttons began the recording of the assault. She looked away, unwilling to see the slaughter again, but she could still see it playing vividly in her mind, frame for frame, up until the final defiant stand of the gunnery sergeant. Owens sat silent for a few minutes before speaking.  
  
"We have to go find out what happened. We need to find the bastards that killed the Strident, and we have to go tear them a new one."  
  
"I don't know if that's an option, Talas. . .but we do need to find out more. I'm sending you back out. You can take whatever forces you think necessary. Consider this a recon in force."  
  
Talas stood and saluted Admiral Hirsch. "When do you want me to leave?"  
  
"Not before you and I get to spend a little time alone. We both need to do something to take our minds off of this. Issue the orders and gather your force together; you can probably leave here in twelve hours."  
  
A broad grin slowly spread across Commander Owens' face. "I'd be delighted to spend some time with you, Tracy." He offered his arm to her as she stood and walked around the desk. She slid her arm through his, and they both walked out the open door, leaving behind their worries of a new threat. 


	10. Chapter 8: Setting the Stage

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 8: Setting the Stage  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
"Domis, this is very important. I'm. . . I'm trusting you. Don't let me down," said Arcturus Mengsk slowly. "If this project fails, the Dominion will be greatly weakened."  
  
Domis Mengsk nodded. "I know, father. Project Starlancer will be completed on schedule and without interference from anyone. Trust me."  
  
Arcturus held Domis' gaze for a few more seconds before looking off screen. He nodded at a few things before returning his attention to the screen. "I'm sorry, Domis, but the Dominion calls. Good luck, son." His hand reached up, tapped a few buttons, and terminated the communications link.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
"Have the tacticians been sent with the fleet, Lina?" asked Mengsk.  
  
"Yes, Arcturus. A trio of them went out on the Pride just a few hours ago. They and the rest of the fleet will get to Domis later today. I hope you realize how many ships you sent."  
  
"We cannot afford to have Project Starlancer fail, Lina. It is the most important thing we have to ensure the Dominion's survival and dominance. Stripping the defense of a few border colonies to provide defense for the installation is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Should those colonies fall, we can always use Starlancer to reclaim them. Besides, the Protoss are too weak to consider an attack, and Raynor's men are all too happy to play pirate," Mengsk sighed heavily. "Losing that component and the crew of the Star Child was terrible, but Domis told me the backup has already been received and installed. The Star Child had orders to destroy the device if they were under attack, and I have no doubt that they performed admirably."  
  
Lina walked over to where Mengsk was seated and rubbed his back for a few moments. "Yes Arcturus, but that still leaves the Zerg."  
  
Mengsk smiled broadly. "I don't believe the Zerg have received knowledge of Project Starlancer. If Dr. Malcolm hadn't defected, Raynor wouldn't have the slightest idea either. Border reports are also coming in saying that the Zerg are acting oddly. Most of the major offensives they were undertaking have halted, and the Zerg have run back to their Hives. Astonishing, yes, but it's about time the Dominion had a streak of luck."  
  
"You don't believe in luck, Arcturus."  
  
"I'm aware of that."  
  
"Let me see what I can find out about this Zerg. . . pacifism, okay? I'm sure one of the scientists you have working for you has figured out why. . . I just need to find him."  
  
Mengsk nodded slowly. "Okay, you might as well get moving then. I need to be leaving shortly anyway. I'm scheduled to be in a press conference in a few hours," Mengsk turned to look into Lina's eyes. They were a blue so light that they almost looked white, and it was most alluring when added with her white streaked hair. "I love you, Lina."  
  
Lina stood, slung her canister rifle over her shoulder, and walked across the room. She turned as she placed her hand on the doorknob and grinned roguishly at Mengsk. "I know." With that, she stepped through the door into the darkened hallway beyond.  
  
-_-_-_-_-  
  
A knock on Domis' door forced him to look up from the paperwork he had been rifling through. His dark black hair was immaculately plastered to his head, and he was dressed in a full suit, giving him the appearance of a businessman. His eyes glowed with intensity and excitement as he yelled out "Come in!" to the personnel standing beyond. The door opened as a trio of middle-aged men stepped through, closing the door behind them. One of them strode forward and handed Domis a folder filled with data disks and paperwork.  
  
"Administrator Domis Mengsk, I presume? I am Lieutenant Colonel Jerod Locke. To my left is Major Richard Sandfield, and to my right is Major Robert Daniels. Emperor Mengsk sent us to help advise you in your administration of this fleet and this installation," Locke said as he reached his hand out to Domis. Domis shook it briefly, along with the hands of Sandfield and Daniels.  
  
"Excellent. My father told me of your pending arrival. I see you've brought my fleet with you as well. What have we been allocated for this installation's defense?" asked Domis.  
  
"You have eighteen battlecruisers at your disposal, along with nine squadrons of A-19 Wraith-class interceptors, four squadrons of Valkyrie- class missile frigates, and a half-dozen Explorer-class science vessels, all outfitted with the latest technological advances in armor and weaponry," recited Daniels, his voice crisp and precise. "As far as ground forces go, we have brought with us slightly less than three thousand ground troops, a mix of Marines, Firebats, and Medics. We also have been allocated eight-dozen Goliath-class assault mechs, and three-dozen Arclite Siege Tanks. Finally, you also have four special operations Ghost agents."  
  
Domis nodded appreciatively. "Quite a large allotment. Is my father expecting an attack on this installation? I can't see him giving us this many troops otherwise."  
  
The trio of advisers looked at each other before Sandfield answered. "Yes, Administrator Mengsk. The emperor expects an assault force of Protoss and rebel Terran factions, possibly working in concert. A key scientist for this project disappeared a few weeks ago, and Emperor Mengsk believes him to have defected to Captain James Raynor's rebel group."  
  
"Raynor? That explains it. My father and he were allies once, but Raynor turned on him once my father defeated the Confederacy. Raynor is a black- hearted pirate, and he wants nothing more than to supplant my father. The Protoss are just as evil, and he's worked with them closely in the past against the Dominion."  
  
Domis walked slowly over to the large window at the rear of his office. The view beyond was both sobering and awe-inspiring: the inky velvet of space studded with pinpricks of light. The moon below his office was covered with power lines and machinery, all devices to power the massive gravity-manipulating repulsor buried in the heart of the moon. Domes were scattered around the surface, temporary homes for the engineers and scientists working night and day to complete the Starlancer. He turned and looked back to the three advisers.  
  
"This project can not fail. My father and the Dominion are counting on this project's completion. When it's done, we'll go crush the Zerg, the Protoss, Raynor, and any other two-bit rebel who thinks he can stand against the Dominion!" Color flushed Domis' face as his visions of the future grew ever more grandiose. "The Dominion will settle hundreds of worlds, build the most massive fleet possible, and then with the Starlancer at its' heart, we'll go after Earth. We'll take up orbit, we'll shove its moon into Mars, and we'll deliver them the ultimatum: surrender to the Dominion or be destroyed. The UED expedition should never have interfered with my father's plans. They got what they deserved from the Zerg: total annihilation."  
  
The mania slowly faded from Domis' eyes as he basked in the future glory of the Dominion. He looked each of the advisors in the eyes. "Each of you will have command of a portion of this moon. Majors Sandfield, you will have command of the upper hemisphere, while Major Daniels will have command of the lower. Lieutenant Colonel Locke, you will be given command of the starships we have. Deploy them in the positions and formations you think most defensible."  
  
"I anticipated your orders, Administrator Mengsk, and I have already ordered the fleet to begin scouting the system around us to find positions to stage from and areas in which we can trap our attackers."  
  
Domis glared at Locke. "You issued orders to my fleet without permission?"  
  
Locke bowed his head for a few seconds before returning Domis' gaze. "I did, Administrator. My apologies, but I assumed. . ."  
  
"I don't give a damn what you assumed, Lieutenant Colonel. In the future, you will not undertake any maneuvers without my direct orders. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes sir, I understand."  
  
"That goes for all of you. I want to authorize everything you wish to do. This project cannot fail!"  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
The trio of advisors walked down the hall briskly, wanting to get as far away from Domis as possible. Sandfield was the first to speak.  
  
"Did you see his eyes when he was on that power trip? His eyes looked like he was insane. Did you guys catch that?"  
  
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. He only got this post because his father is the emperor. We're evidence of that. He needs three advisors to nursemaid him? We could be doing more important work elsewhere," said Daniels. "The Zerg were still slamming the outpost I was stationed at when I got called away for this."  
  
Locke stopped walking, as did the two majors. "I agree with both of you fully. But Administrator Mengsk is the one in command of this operation only officially, as we well know. Emperor Mengsk obviously doesn't think too much of his son, and I'm inclined to agree with him. Any other officer with any brains would have been pleased I had ordered the fleet to take up defensive positions once we arrived, but he got pissed off at me instead. If the Protoss and Raynor had attacked while we were having that little meeting with the fleet clustered like it was when we arrived, it would have been crushed, numbers or not," Locke paused for a few seconds, clearly thinking out what he wanted to say. "Though Administrator Mengsk is inept, he was right about one thing. The Starlancer cannot be taken or destroyed. Either of those outcomes would result in the destruction of the Dominion by the Zerg. And I don't know about either of you, but I don't fancy being infested by those bastards."  
  
"So we hold little Domis' hand while he fumbles, and then we pick up the pieces?" asked Daniels with a grin.  
  
"No. We make sure he doesn't fumble. This position is as much about the defense of this project as it is making Domis' more politically favorable. His father wants him to succeed him someday, and with how Domis' is now, the Dominion would be crippled in days, destroyed within a month. We have to make sure that nothing happens to the Starlancer while making it look like it was Domis' genius that defended it," said Locke. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a fleet to run. Both of you get your troops off of the transports in the next few hours. I'm going to have them hide at the rear of the sun so whatever fleet comes in here won't detect them." With that, he walked off down the hallway, disappearing into one of the side hallways.  
  
Sandfield looked at Daniels. "Splitting the ground forces, eh? Did you notice we weren't sent with any Vultures? I wonder why."  
  
"Probably a screw-up at Command. Requisition some for us if you want them. I've never had much use for them, really. The drivers are always so. . . coarse. They tend to have more conflicts with other soldiers, and we really don't need the distractions."  
  
"Yeah, true. We got sent with some heuristic mines anyway, so those will do fine I suppose. We've got materials for buildings, right?"  
  
Daniels pulled out a data pad from a pocket and turned it on. "Yeah, we've got enough for a mid-sized base and a few small outposts. Probably not enough to work on turning out anymore Wraiths or the like, but enough to put defenses around the most vital components of the Starlancer."  
  
"Good. Well, let's get moving then. Like Locke said, the enemy could be here sooner than we want them, and even factoring the delays in that he'll cause with the fleet, I'm sure some of them will make planet fall, and I'll be all too pleased to crush any force they send after us. It'll be a welcome change after fighting the Zerg."  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
Domis fidgeted anxiously in the shuttle as he rode down to the surface of the moon; he had never enjoyed space flight, especially that oft-turbulent ride into atmosphere. Of course, the moon Starlancer was being constructed on barely had anything that qualified as an atmosphere. . .just enough to make working a little easier and less dangerous, should environmental suits get torn or fail.  
  
He pressed a button on his chair, opening the communication line to the cockpit. "How much longer until we reach the surface, Pilot?"  
  
The smooth voice of the copilot answered Domis. "The pilot's kind of busy right now working on our approach vector. We should be down in two or three minutes though."  
  
"Thank you." Domis looked out the window of the shuttle, gazing lovingly at the ever-closer surface of the moon. It's beautiful, in a deadly sort of way, thought Domis.  
  
Conduits and energy towers were becoming visible as they approached; some of them were crackling with energy even now as the Dominion scientists tried to finish their projects quickly to stay on schedule. He could make out the faint outlines of a military convoy weaving between the buildings that studded the surface, and watched as construction vehicles peeled away holding sheets of neosteel, obviously constructing static defenses. A siege tank halted its' advance across the lunar soil, shuddering to a stop next to a control station. Massive braces clamped down on the surface of the moon, holding the tank in place while it deployed it's' 120 millimeter "Shock Cannon".  
  
The shuttle banked to the left, taking the surface out of view, and the copilot's voice came on the communications line again. "The pilot is making the approach now. Thirty seconds to landing, Administrator Mengsk."  
  
The shuttle leveled out, and Domis watched in fascination as the massive domed structure in front of them slowly split open, revealing a landing pad inside. The pilot skillfully hovered as the door opened, and then carefully lowered the shuttle down to the pad below. Domis waited patiently as the door started to close again, and then stood as the ramp hydraulics hissed softly before it creaked open. He walked out onto the greasy floor of the landing pad where a female officer greeted him.  
  
"Administrator Mengsk? I am Lieutenant Susan Ansel, the commanding officer of this outpost. What brings you to this facility?" she asked cautiously.  
  
Domis favored her with a broad grin. "Surprise inspection, I suppose you can call it. I just want to make sure all these scientists are working to their full potential."  
  
"Indeed they are, Administrator. Would you like a tour? I know that you've only recently assumed command. . .is this your first time on the surface?"  
  
Domis nodded. "Yes it is, Lieutenant. I intent to visit all of the major facilities over the next few days, hopefully to inspire some of the workers to. . . expedite the final work for Starlancer. A tour would be most helpful."  
  
She gestured towards a doorway across the room. "Shall we begin? I know you are a busy man, Administrator, and I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time than necessary."  
  
-_-_-  
  
"Hold on, Lieutenant. I'd like to speak with some of these scientists, if you don't mind." Domis said as he placed his palm on the door pad. It slid open, and Domis stepped through, quickly flinging his arm up over his face to shield it from the bright light that stabbed his eyes. The corridor had been only dimly lit, and walking into this room was akin to staring at a star afterwards.  
  
A man walked over to Domis, extending his hand to him. Domis shook it briefly, and then asked, "How is your division doing, doctor?"  
  
The doctor pointed to a scheduling board to Domis' right. "As you can see here, this is the timetable for completion of our portion of Starlancer," he said as he walked over to the board. "This is where we should be now," he said while pointing to a few areas. "And this is where we are." The second area he pointed at was in front of the first.  
  
"You're ahead of schedule? How have you managed that after the hijacking of the supply ship?" asked Domis incredulously.  
  
"We've improvised in a few areas, and we've been cutting some corners on parts we really don't need. So far we haven't run into any major problems," said the doctor proudly.  
  
Domis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Are you in contact with the other construction sectors?"  
  
The doctor blinked at the sudden change of subject, but said "Occasionally, Administrator, but only when necessary. Why?"  
  
"How are they faring compared to your sector?"  
  
"Not as well, I've heard. None of them are behind schedule, but most are riding the edge. A few that I have talked to have had problems improvising like this sector, which may be part of their problem. More supplies would be most welcome, Administrator, if it is within your power."  
  
"Very well. I am loath to requisition more supplies, but if it must be done to complete Starlancer on time, it shall be done shortly. So assuming that all the sectors manage to catch up with you and keep up, when will it be completed?"  
  
"In less than two weeks, Administrator, if all sectors are problem free."  
  
"Excellent. All sectors that complete their work ahead of schedule will receive bonus pay. Please pass that information along," said Domis as he turned and walked out of the chamber.  
  
The lieutenant was standing there, and gestured ahead of her. "Shall we continue the tour, Administrator Mengsk?"  
  
"Sadly, I am forced to decline. I believe I should begin visiting the other sectors immediately, and I need to fill out the paperwork to requisition more supplies. Perhaps another time, lieutenant," said Domis as he began walking down the hallway. "I must return to the shuttle now. Thank you for your hospitality."  
  
The lieutenant just stared incredulously after Domis, somewhat unwilling to tell him that he was heading in the same direction they had gone before. She muttered to herself, "I guess he's getting the tour whether he like it or not." Sighing heavily, she trotted after him, hoping to stop him before he got lost. 


	11. Chapter 9: A Question of Pawns

Heroes Never Die  
  
Chapter 9: A Question of Pawns  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
"Praetor, we've arrived at the coordinates specified by Commander Raynor. We aren't detecting any starships in the surrounding area currently. I shall notify you should any arrive," said the captain of the Tassadar before reaching to switch off the comm. unit.  
  
Artanis turned to look at Zeratul. "I wonder what could be keeping Commander Raynor from our meeting."  
  
Zeratul laughed softly. "He will doubtless arrive shortly, Praetor. Commander Raynor has always been. . .unorthodox."  
  
Artanis smiled briefly as he walked over to the nearby table and pressed a few buttons. Elaborate holograms representing chess pieces flashed into existence. Artanis sat down on the side behind the black pieces, and Zeratul crossed the chamber and seated himself behind the white pieces. Artanis looked at Zeratul and smiled again. "It has been quite a few years since I last played, Prelate."  
  
Zeratul nodded absently and looked down at the board, his eyes tracing the delicate craftsmanship of the nonexistent pieces. He reached over and slowly picked up the pawn in front of him, marveling at the feel of it as he moved it forward a space. "The Khalai workers were most skillful in designing this set, Artanis. The fields to make the pieces seem tangible were a master stroke."  
  
Artanis picked up the pawn in front of his king-side knight and moved it forward two spaces. "Where did you learn to play this game, Zeratul?"  
  
"Tassadar showed me the complexities of this game during his short time of exile. He was a brilliant strategist, and I only rarely defeated him," said Zeratul sadly. He moved forward one of his knights. "Were you taught by Commander Raynor?"  
  
Artanis grinned. "I do not think that chess is a game Commander Raynor is fond of, Prelate," Artanis said with a mental grin as he moved another of his pawns forward, leaving it diagonally behind his other pawn. "During our preparations for a joint mission involving our people and Commander Raynor's renegades, I spent some time amongst his starfighter pilots, trading maneuvers and tactics effective against the Zerg. One of the Valkyrie wing commanders taught me in between simulator fighting. After he assured me that I knew the game well enough, he challenged me to three matches, and requested a wager be placed upon the match. The first match went to him, but the second and third were both my victories. I believe, though I am not sure, I left with a good portion of his money," Artanis said before shrugging.  
  
Their game continued in silence for a few dozen moves as pieces were removed from the board, finally drawing down to the final few moves. Artanis was left with a rook, his white bishop, and a knight, while Zeratul was left with a rook, a knight, and a pawn that had traveled all but one space to the end of the board. Artanis moved his rook to block the pawn's advance, but after Zeratul placed him in check with his rook he was forced to withdraw it to defend his king. Zeratul then moved his pawn forward, promoting it to a queen. The game ended swiftly with the addition of that new factor; Artanis was steadily forced into a corner, isolated from his pieces as Zeratul continually placed him in check. Zeratul made one final move and leaned backwards. "Checkmate, Artanis."  
  
Artanis studied his pieces for a few moments before tipping his king over with one of his long, slender fingers and laughing. "Indeed, Prelate. You played masterfully."  
  
Zeratul turned to look out the window into the darkness of space. "Chess is a simple game with hidden complexities, Artanis. Many hundreds of years ago, it was extremely popular on ancient Earth. Military generals played frequently, equating the game to the warfare of their age." He turned back to Artanis. "War is not so simple anymore, my friend. Starships can move in any direction, not just the forward and reverse charges of ground battles. Only a few lessons this game teaches still hold true, and I continue to play to remind me of those lessons."  
  
Artanis closed his eyes in deep thought before speaking again. "Is one of those lessons the ability of subterfuge deciding battles? Chess is about manipulating your foes into unwilling sacrifices, foolish attacks, costly retreats."  
  
"That is one lesson that must be kept in mind. Another lesson," he said as he held up a black pawn. "Is that even pawns can become something other than themselves at times."  
  
Zeratul stood and stretched his legs; the game had gone longer than they had expected, and the many muscles in Protoss legs were prone to cramping. He looked pointedly at Artanis again. "However, Praetor, you must also remember the differences between war and chess. Far too often, allies may betray you. In chess, there is no such factor."  
  
Artanis followed suit and stood, stretching out his own legs. "Are you warning me of something, Prelate? Do you fear betrayal at Raynor's hands?"  
  
Zeratul laughed softly. "Never would Raynor consider betraying you or I, my friend. Raynor has been betrayed far too many times in his life to consider doing so to another. But war can create desperate alliances, and it is wise to never depend upon such allies."  
  
Artanis started to reply, but was cut off by a shrill buzzing noise. He walked over to the small communications center in the corner and tapped a few buttons. The face of the tactical officer of the Tassadar appeared on the screen in front of him. "Praetor, Commander Raynor's force has arrived in sector. He wishes to inform you that he has located a traitor amongst his bridge crew sending information to an unknown destination. He requests we move the meeting a short distance in case a disruption of your meeting is planned."  
  
Surprise crossed Artanis' face, but he replied "Very well. Have our fleet move to the coordinates he asks. The Prelate and myself will arrive on the bridge shortly." He turned to Zeratul. "This is a surprising turn of events, considering our conversation."  
  
Zeratul, lost in deep thought, could only nod. He stared intently into the darkness for a few moments before he turned to Artanis and spoke again. "Let us leave, for I am eager to meet with Commander Raynor. Too much has happened these past days, and I can only wonder what new threat he may have discovered."  
  
-_-_-  
  
"I'll ask again. Who were you sending the information to?" Raynor asked the man restrained before him. "Was it the Dominion?"  
  
The man stared ahead silently, the same as he had been since his betrayal was discovered.  
  
"Zerg? Are you infested, working for that bitch Kerrigan?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"That one we can test. Take a skin sample and run it through analysis, Doctor," said Raynor.  
  
Dr. Malcolm stepped forward with a small needle in hand. He rubbed the needle against the skin of the traitor, gathering skin cells. When he was satisfied, he walked over to the computer terminal and injected the sample into a dish for analysis. A low humming sound filled the room. "It'll only take a few moments, Commander Raynor."  
  
"I don't think you're infested though. But I bet this genetic readout can tell us a whole bunch of information you don't want us to know," said Raynor, his face grim. "We're going to find out who you are and who the hell you've been selling us out to sooner or later. It would be easier for the both of us if you just spill it now."  
  
"I wasn't selling you out to anyone," the man said in a slow, measured voice. "I was passing along information that I thought my superiors might be interested in."  
  
"What information was that?" asked Raynor.  
  
"Information about the Dominion Project Starlancer," the man replied.  
  
"So you probably aren't working for the Dominion then, which is a bit of a relief I suppose," Raynor said with a short laugh.  
  
The humming of the terminal stopped, and the screen began filling with text. Dr. Malcolm scanned it for a few moments before turning back to Raynor, his face clearly surprised. "I'm almost positive he isn't a Dominion operative, Commander Raynor. If this readout is correct, he was born on Earth."  
  
"Earth? What the hell is the UED still up to around here? I thought you boys got your asses handed to you by the Zerg and ran home with your tails between your legs."  
  
The man looked at Raynor indignantly. "I'm not a member of the UED. The UED abandoned my people, and didn't bother sending out any reinforcements or anyone to find out what happened to us. I'm a member of the United Earth Remnant, the UER."  
  
Raynor nodded. "Now we're getting somewhere. So what does the UER want with information about Starlancer?"  
  
"Starlancer will give Mengsk too much power. Sooner or later he'll stumble across us, and then we'll be destroyed. It made sense to relay this information to my superiors now, while something can still be done about it," said the man.  
  
A crackle of static filled the small room. "Commander Raynor, this is the bridge. The Protoss have agreed to move our meeting a short distance away, and they've begun powering up weapons in anticipation of a hostile attack. Should we follow suit?"  
  
"Go ahead and prepare. Information we've gotten from our traitor suggests that if anyone does show up, it will be people from the UED," he said and caught an angry glare from the man in the chair. "Sorry, the UER. Same people, different name."  
  
"Acknowledged, Commander," said the bridge officer, closing the line.  
  
"So the UER knows about Starlancer?" asked Raynor.  
  
"Somewhat. You captured me before I could send them the specifics. All they know is that the Dominion is building a weapon that is a great threat to all."  
  
"Is a fleet going to show up here?"  
  
The man turned away silently, clearly mindful of how much he had already spoken and unwilling to cooperate further. Raynor waved a few guards in from the hall, and said, "Watch him, okay? I'm sure we've got a few surprises on our hands, and I want to be able to talk to this bastard to sort them out when we're ready."  
  
Raynor turned and walked out of the room, gesturing for Dr. Malcolm to follow him as they walked to the bridge. "This surely is an unexpected turn of events. It's going to make this planning session with the Protoss a little difficult."  
  
"I didn't know the UED stayed behind at all. I would have thought any survivors from the massacre would have tried their hardest to get back to Earth and get reinforcements," said Dr. Malcolm thoughtfully  
  
"Kerrigan made a big deal about leaking to the Dominion information about her pursuit of the UED forces, and she said she managed to decimate most of them. If that wasn't a lie, then they probably would have had a difficult time stuffing their people on just a few ships. Or maybe the few capital ships left were busted up too bad to make the trip. I don't know. I just don't like these extra factors. We've already got the Starlancer, the Zerg, the Dominion. It's too much to think about, and sometimes over thinking in a battle can get you killed. I wish it were like the old days, not having to deal with any of this spying and political bullshit. Damn near every problem could be solved with a Gauss rifle," Raynor said with a wistful sigh. He placed his palm on the bridge door and stepped through as it slid open. "Any traces of incoming ships?" he called out to the bridge officers.  
  
The sensor officer twisted around to look at Raynor. "No, Sir. We've been scanning, but we're still not picking up anything. The Protoss just asked if you are satisfied with this location."  
  
"Sure, but make sure they know that company could be here at any time. If it works for them, have them ship over here in a few minutes."  
  
-_-_-  
  
"Commander Raynor seems to have finally straightened out matters, Prelate. He requests our presences shortly," said Artanis with the mental equivalent of a wry grin. "Zeratul, are you a qualified pilot?"  
  
The elder Protoss nodded thoughtfully. "In my youth, I was indeed a pilot. It has been a few years since last I flew a starfighter, but I believe it is something I haven't forgotten. Why do you ask, Artanis?"  
  
"If we use a shuttle to travel the Hyperion, we will be stranded if it comes under attack. However, if we use Scouts or Corsairs, we could leave to aid our forces."  
  
"A good plan, Praetor."  
  
"I had hoped you would approve, Prelate. I have my Scout and a Corsair prepared for our usage. Shall we go see Commander Raynor now?"  
  
"Indeed, Artanis. This reunion is one long overdue. I wish it were under more enjoyable circumstances than these."  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
Flying brought back bittersweet memories to Zeratul. It had been years since last he had flown, but he hadn't forgotten the beauty and awe one felt being nearly alone amongst the cosmos inside a craft that, although the height of Protoss technology, was still little protection against the hostile environment of space. One hand rested on the flight stick of the Corsair lightly while the other rested against the fighter's control panel, allowing him easy access to shielding, armament, and engine controls and settings.  
  
Zeratul looked out of the flight canopy, seeing Artanis floating similarly nearby. Artanis looked over at Zeratul and caught his eye, giving him a mental grin. The Scout leapt forward and rolled sideways, eventually turning into an elongated loop that left him where he had started. Zeratul smiled at his young friend and slowly engaged his engines while his other hand pulled back the flight stick, back flipping his starfighter quickly. He smiled slightly as he weaved his craft's flight path with that of the Scout's, enjoying the complex maneuver. He paused in his maneuvering and looked out at the stars, a fragment of memory trying to surface. He shook his head slowly, clearing the errant thought.  
  
"Perhaps we should dock with the Hyperion now, Praetor. Although this is invigorating, our time may be short," Zeratul said with a sigh.  
  
The docking bays of the Hyperion slowly opened far in front of them, a massive gaping mouth eager to swallow the comparatively tiny Protoss craft. The Hyperion's bays had been modified to be able to hold the Protoss fighters during the Brood War, as their landing apparatus and size were significantly different from Terran Wraiths. The Hyperion was a near- perfect reflection of its captain: a seemingly eclectic mix of unique qualities along with the scars of battle.  
  
As the two craft entered the maw of the Battlecruiser, the door slid shut behind them, pressurizing the docking bay against the cold space beyond. The repulsors that held the two fighters aloft slowly extinguished until they were close to the deck. The fighter canopies opened in unison, revealing the First Born held within. The two Protoss levered themselves deftly out of the cockpits and onto the wings of their fighters before jumping down to the deck.  
  
The small door at the opposite end of the fighter bay slid open silently, revealing Raynor standing behind them. "Howdy, boys. It's good to see you two again."  
  
Zeratul laughed softly. "I wish our meeting were under more pleasant circumstances."  
  
"You two don't know the half of it. Doctor Malcolm here," said Raynor as he waved to Dr. Malcolm, who was stepping through the doorway, "has a whole hell of a lot to tell you, and none of it is good news. Follow me, and we'll go have ourselves a little conference and figure out what comes next."  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
"Commander Owens, we're only a few minutes from reversion. What is our plan?" asked the youthful voice of Firespray Duece.  
  
Commander Owens flicked a few switches on his comm. panel, opening a broad communication link to the eight squadrons of Wraiths that he was leading. "We'll go in weapons hot, cloaking fields enabled. Our informant seems to have been caught, but we got some pretty interesting information before. I'm not sure who all is in this area though, so be careful. Everyone, keep your wingman nearby and help each other out," said Owens.  
  
"Commander, what sort of forces does Raynor have, or was the informant caught too quickly to relay that information?" asked Novaflare Leader, his tone dour and seemingly uninterested.  
  
"We've got some preliminary numbers, but they could have changed by now. Estimate show that Raynor may have about a half-dozen Battlecruisers in the immediate area, along with various smaller support ships and freighters. He seems to be relatively light on starfighters, so we have that advantage," said Owens. "But there might be Protoss in the zone as well," Owens added quietly.  
  
A variegated stream of colorful profanity filled the comm. channel before Owens cut it off with a yell. "Quiet, quiet! The UER has fought the Protoss before, and we've done just fine. Just remember that a Scout can take a Wraith easy, even with the modifications our techs have made to them, so team up to take them out," he said before cautioning, "But don't let yourselves bunch up too much, or you'll be fodder for the Corsairs. Whatever else you do when we get in, don't fire until I give the go-ahead, got it?"  
  
Calls of acknowledgement scattered across the channel, but Owens shut it off with a flick of a switch. His hand crept up to the cross he wore on a chain around his neck, and his eyes closed in deep thought. When he opened them his hand fell away.  
  
-_-_-  
  
"Arcturus Mengsk is mad! How could he attempt such atrocities?" asked an astonished Artanis. His eyes weren't flaring as brilliantly as usual, a testament to his current state of shock.  
  
"Artanis, I think we all know that bastard will do whatever he thinks will get him more power," said Raynor.  
  
"This is indeed a grave matter, Commander, but no less grave than the matter we bring before you now," Zeratul said slowly and deliberately, and then looked pointedly at Dr. Malcolm. "However, this requires an extraordinary amount of secrecy."  
  
Dr. Malcolm stood stiffly and rubbed his hands down the front of his clothing, smoothing out unseen rumples. "I have some things to tend to anyway. If you need me, I'll be in my quarters." He looked around at the three leaders still seated. "Starlancer isn't something that we can afford to delay dealing with." He nodded curtly, and walked out of the conference room.  
  
Raynor grinned at Zeratul. "I guess the doctor didn't like your suggestion that he could be a security hazard," he said before sighing. "You mentioned earlier that you both had some bad news, so you might as well lay it on me now."  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
"Commander Owens, reversion in sixty seconds, I repeat, six-oh," said the easy tones of Firespray Nine.  
  
Commander Owens glanced quickly across his instrument board, affirming once again that everything was operating at optimum efficiency. He tapped a few buttons with one hand while his other modified his shield settings. The UER Wraiths had been retrofitted with Protoss-style energy shielding, but it ran off of the engines of the fighters. Although they had been vastly upgraded and improved in the past few years, the shields could still cause a significant decrease in speed if set too high. Owens liked to dial them down low, contrary to the practices of the pilots under his command. They were dependent upon the shielding to save them if they made a mistake, but thinking like that would lead to sloppiness and death. Owens prided himself upon his piloting skills, preferring to depend upon his greater speed and quicker reactions rather than shields to keep him alive.  
  
"Firespray Squardron, do not fire until I give the go ahead, unless we're fired upon first. If they start something, respond with maximum force," said Owens.  
  
A few confirmations came through the channel, but Owens ignored them. He reached again to the cross around his neck, caressing its smooth ridges with his thumb and forefinger. "God, if you're listening, help me keep my men alive." He let the crucifix drop from his fingers and placed his hand upon his piloting yoke, his face impassive as he began testing his weaponry.  
  
-_-_-_-  
  
"You've got to be kidding! So someone, somewhere, thought it'd be a good idea to mix the Zerg, the Protoss, and humans?" asked Raynor, clearly annoyed and worried.  
  
Zeratul bowed his head for a few moments before he looked up and responded. "Indeed, Commander Raynor. The servant of Kerrigan, the Terran Samir Duran, was present when I assaulted the facility. I. . . "  
  
Artanis turned and looked quizzically at the Prelate. "Is something wrong, Zeratul?"  
  
!*!  
  
Zeratul's eyes dimmed as he searched his many hundreds of years of memories, seeking something. . .important. Finally, he seized upon what he sought. "I remember something I found years ago, before the Brood War. It was right after Aiur fell, after Tassadar sacrificed himself to destroy the Overmind. I was preparing my fighter to aid in the search for survivors of the Zerg assault, but when I got into my Corsair I found a message waiting for me, a message I believe to have been sent by Tassadar moments before. . ."  
  
Zeratul reached into the folds of his dark blue cloak and withdrew a data disk, handing it to Raynor. "This contains a record of the message I received. I do not fully comprehend it, but I believe it is related to these Hybrids."  
  
Raynor stood and walked across the room, sliding the small disk into the wall terminal. A holographic projector on the table the three had been seated around flashed into operation, displaying a page of holographic text a few inches above the surface of the table.  
  
"-Zeratul The first battle is over but the war is beginning. Do not allow our brethren to remain pawns."  
  
Raynor whistled softly from where he was leaning by the terminal, but his noise of surprise failed to break the silence in the conference room. "That does sound like Tassadar."  
  
Zeratul nodded slowly. "Though this message doesn't have a direct reference to our current plights, we must remember that we now have two threats to deal with. We cannot allow ourselves to be manipulated into dealing with the lesser threat first."  
  
"But we don't know anything about these Hybrids, Zeratul. Hell, we don't even know where they are right now! The Starlancer is almost done, and we know where that is. For the moment, I'd say that's the greater threat. Do we agree on that?"  
  
Artanis looked over at Zeratul before speaking. "Commander Raynor, your assessment of the situation seems astute. Our greatest threat at the moment is this Dominion weapon. We have forces enough to combine with yours to destroy this weapon with us."  
  
Raynor frowned. "But won't that leave Shakuras under defended? I'd hate to have the Dominion or the Zerg stumble across it and wipe it out because you're all out here."  
  
"To our knowledge, the location of Shakuras remains hidden from the Dominion. The Zerg have become strangely uncoordinated recently, similar to when the Overmind fell. However, Kerrigan has created many Cerebrates to help administer the Swarm, and this measure seems to be keeping the Swarm from erupting into chaos. For the meantime, Shakuras is safe from the Swarm," said Artanis.  
  
"We have moved the majority of our fleet away from Shakuras, and have begun the search for a new base to stage from, Commander. It is my hope that establishing a new base will draw attention away from locating Shakuras. However, we have yet to locate a suitable world," Zeratul said.  
  
"I think me and my people can solve that problem, Zeratul. We've found a bunch of planets that would be perfect for both our races, but we haven't wanted to be pinned down. I think, though, that if we have both our peoples entrenched there, we'll be a less likely target," said Raynor. "I'll have someone start looking through our records and see if we can't come up with something that'll work for both of us."  
  
Artanis stood and stretched out his legs. "We seem to have accomplished all we can at this moment, Commander. Perhaps Zeratul and I should return to the Tassadar now."  
  
Raynor started to respond, but the blaring sirens and garish lights of an emergency klaxon stopped him. Raynor's hand slapped the button below the klaxon, killing its' wailing cries. The speaker above crackled to life, bearing the words of the communications officer. "Sir, sensors have detected the reversion of a large number of starfighter class ships."  
  
Raynor nodded to Artanis and Zeratul, and waved them out of the conference room as he responded. "Okay, what do we know? Do we have a number of fighters yet, or what type they are?"  
  
"Sensors estimate over six dozen squadrons of starfighters. Preliminary spectrographic analysis of the engine emissions suggests heavily modified Wraiths."  
  
"Deploy our fighters and have them go weapons-hot. Send out a science vessel and see what they can make of these fighters. And don't forget to send a message to the Protoss with this information. I'm sure they've detected the fighters too, but it can't hurt to give them a heads up as to what we've found. In the meantime, don't fire unless fired upon. I'll be on the bridge in a few minutes," he finished and pressed a button on the wall, switching off the speaker.  
  
Raynor stepped away from where he had been leaning and walked across the room. He stopped at the doorway, looking down the empty corridor beyond. He muttered to himself, "Everything gets more interesting with Zeratul around." Then, with a laugh that sounded more like a sickly cough than good humor, he began jogging swiftly down the corridor towards the bridge, a feeling of unease settling in his gut as he tried to ignore the new threat he now knew to be lurking somewhere in the galaxy.  
  
+=+=+=  
  
Authors Note: Where this symbol occurs, !*!, it's a reference to another story of mine that sort of ties into this one. Actually, almost all of my stories tie together, but this is a more direct reference than usual. The story is titled "Darkness of the Void", and can be found at  
  
I'm not going to force you to read it, and not reading it won't detract from Heroes Never Die at all, but it does in fact tie in, so you may or may not want to.  
  
Fight on, Dark-Elk 


	12. Chapter 10: Truth Be Told

Heroes Never Die

Chapter 10:  Truth Be Told

By: Dark-Elk

_"Ghost reportin'."_

_"What's the situation?"_

_"Zerg have penetrated deep into sectors 7G and 7H of the north perimeter.  The east perimeter is almost completely breached.  South and west are stable for now."  The ghost's hand reached up to brush her long, ebon hair from her face, tucking it securely behind her ear.  Lights sparkled around her eyepiece as her eyes restlessly scanned the torn landscape. She shifted the gauss rifle secured to her back slightly, moving the trigger housing from where it had been seated, biting harshly into her back. _

_"Is the silo intact?"_

_"Yeah."  She coughed slightly as a gust of wind kicked a cloud of dirt into her face. "Last I heard, anyway." Her eyes shifted to the darkening indigo expanse overhead, small clouds slowly skidding across the sky.  Had it been closer to night, she was sure she would be able to see the explosions that were undoubtedly wracking the fleet in orbit._

_"Get in as close to the Hive as you can and call it in.  We'll work on evac." A sharp click followed, signaling the ghost's dismissal._

_"You got it," she muttered softly to no one at all._

\=-|-=/

Sien jolted forward as her eyes snapped wide open, revealing her baleful emerald eyes. Her breathing was fast, but as she woke up more fully, she started to bring it under control.  The dream…it had seemed so real.  Why did it seem so familiar to her?  She stood up slowly from her bed and stretched her limbs, taking extra care to extend her wing claws a few times to loosen up the muscles that held them aloft.

She ran a carapace-covered hand over her arms, unconsciously trying to warm up her flesh.  Since she had awoken a few days ago for the first time in many months, her body had seemed permanently chilled, a mere step above numbness.  She reached up to brush her long hair back before pausing as she remembered that she didn't have any.  Instead, long, medusa-like spines covered her head, but that didn't detract from the delicate, Asian beauty she still retained.  Her eyes were slightly drawn up at the corners, adding to her already rather exotic appearance.  Now confusion filled those eyes as she pondered how she had possibly forgotten such a simple fact.

_"Cerebrate Sien."_

_"Yes, Jendrel?"_ she asked mentally.  _"Do you have news?"_

_"Our queen is being held above the desert world of Tanaska.  There appears to be a station in orbit where the First Born are holding her."_ Jendrel replied.  _"The First Born must take us for fools.  There isn't a single starship in orbit; nothing that could possibly serve as a defense against our might."_

_"She did say the Templar told her that if the base was destroyed, she would be trapped in the imprisonment field forever.  If that wasn't a bluff, it would explain the lack of a fleet,"_ Sien said as she crossed the chamber she had been sleeping in, pausing before a small viewport that gave her a generous view of the stars surrounding the Zerg broods.

"Undoubtedly that is why she wished for you to awaken.  Your skills, along with that of your Brood, are uniquely suited to enter this base and rescue Kerrigan."

Sien nodded absently as she called out to her Brood, calling them from their duties, ordering them to return to her.  "I won't fail.  Kerrigan will be returned to us, and then the Swarm shall make these vermin pay for their insolence," she said simply.

Across the chamber, a half dozen sphincters irised open, revealing the forms of serpentine Hydralisks, doglike Zerglings, and a servant of her own design, one that would ensure her Queen's release.  She mentally nudged the small Brood towards the Overlords that were connected to the command pod that was her home, urging them to settle themselves in the fleshy confines of the Overlords and sleep.

Giving her wing claws one last wide stretch, she turned away from the viewport and followed behind her brood, eager to find Kerrigan and decimate her captors.

\=-|-=/

The unconscious Queen of Blades stirred listlessly, struggling to open her eyes.  As soon as they finally popped open, she quickly shut them again, blocking out the harsh white light.  Her brief glance had afforded her a view of the damned Dark Templar.  He had mentioned his name in passing, but Kerrigan didn't care anymore.

A wrapped foot connected with her side, exacerbating what Kerrigan thought were broken ribs.  That was a bad sign; her Zerg nature should have already healed such minor wounds.  A nova of pain exploded in her mind as the Templar kicked her twice more.  "Answer me, foul Queen!"

She opened her eyes again and hissed softly at the pain.  It had been years since she had last felt prolonged pain such as this.  "Protoss scum. . ." she managed.

"Impressive.  I had my doubts as to whether or not you would survive the procedures," said the dark one.

"Procedures?" asked Kerrigan slowly.  Talking was difficult; it felt as though her vocal cords had been ground to dust and reconstructed.

"Indeed, foul Queen.  Since your capture, we have learned much about you," said the Templar with a short laugh as his eyes dulled to a rich blue.

"You'll pay for this," Kerrigan threatened, her courage returning to her.  "Your entire race will be decimated for this offense. . ." She stopped as a wave of pain washed across her body.  She screamed at the agony that threatened to drown her, the piercing tone not affecting the Templar in the slightest.  Rather, his eyes seemed to convey delight.

"I no longer think that within your power, Kerrigan.  Without your influence and guidance, the Swarm shall fall into disarray, to be terminated by the First Born and the Terrans."

"You can't hold me," Kerrigan said, panting heavily.  "And when I get free of here, I'll break you, dark one.  I'll break you and infest you.  I'll let you live for a thousand eternities, damned to serve me, tortured by the knowledge of the atrocities I'll make you commit.  It wouldn't be near enough repayment for this, but it's more fitting than death.  You don't deserve death.  You will _beg _me for death before I'm through with you"

"Fortunately such actions are no longer within your means, Kerrigan.  I did not exaggerate the powers of your prison.  If your Zerg try to free you, the mindless brutes will trap you in your cell forever," the Dark Templar said, his good humor continuing to grow.  "I should leave you now, though.  The scientists are interested in testing you further, and I see no reason to delay them."  He turned and began walking towards the door, but paused when he heard Kerrigan again.

"Wait, damn you!  What the hell do you want from me?"  she yelled furiously.

He turned and met Kerrigan's fiery, immolating gaze with the cool, ancient blaze of his own.  "What better pursuit than the pursuit of knowledge, foul Queen?"

Kerrigan glared after him as he walked through the door and turned away into the darkened corridor.  She struggled to raise herself to a seated position, her eyes closed in pain as what she was now sure were broken ribs shifted against each other.  Why wasn't her Zerg nature healing the wounds?

She stopped and paused as she heard a distant sound, a scratching noise.  It sounded similar to that of a Zergling walking on rocky terrain. . .the sound of claws scratching over a smooth surface.  The adrenaline rush this noise created in Kerrigan helped her ignore her pain as she slowly stood up and leaned back against the frigid metallic wall behind her, enjoying the cool feel of it against her damaged skin.

Kerrigan's eyes snapped open as she heard the scratching intensify, as though something were drawing nearer.  She experimentally flexed her wing talons, intent upon striking out at this intrusion, exacting retribution for her innumerable wounds.  A wave of severe pain and nausea washed over her as she did, and she strained to bite back a scream.  She slid back down to the floor along the wall, landing heavily on the ground.  Her ribs protested the harsh impact, but their torment was lost amongst the sea of pain Kerrigan was drowning in.

The scratching finally stopped, and Kerrigan struggled to raise her head, casting her gaze to the doorway.  A black orb occupied it, suspended by a half-dozen articulated legs, looking almost like a miniature Dragoon.  A number of limbs raised from the top half of the sphere, all ending in various sharp medical tools, needles, and even what looked to be a small mallet.  Kerrigan began to edge away from the machine as she tried to hurriedly calm her mind and work up the energy to create a psionic storm.

Finally she felt the familiar surge of power, drawing from a well of strength deep within the recesses of her mind.  She flung a hand out towards the orb, nearly grinning as psionic energies crackled down her arm, arcing gracefully downwards.  The energy struck a number of the upper limbs, suffusing across the walking orb and engulfing it in a wash of pure sapphire flame.  Kerrigan roared gutturally in triumph, ignoring the pain of her vocal cords and ribs as she jolted onto her feet.

The blue fire slowly evaporated as Kerrigan watched.  Her expression fell from triumph to incredulity in the span of a few heartbeats as the walking orb was revealed again to her, seemingly undamaged.  A shrill, warbling shriek filled the room, making Kerrigan cover her ears as she winced.  A throbbing, pulsating thud seemed to begin in her mind, steadily drowning out her thoughts as it grew to a roaring crescendo.  Her eyes slowly closed, leaving her in an echoing darkness.

\=-|-=/

A thin spear of crimson light sliced through the darkness that had fallen, projecting faintly onto what the ghost had discovered to be a Zerg Hive.  She remained in a prone position, holding the rifle steady, taking great care not to jostle the delicate aiming process.  The longer it took to paint the target, the longer she'd be out here and the easier it'd be for her to be discovered.  Her eyes roamed incessantly back and forth, alertly scanning for Zerg movements.

Her eyes caught sight of a distant mass in the sky.  She spared one hand to adjust the settings of her eyepiece, more closely attuning her vision to the great distance.  Her eyes confirmed what she had suspected: a flight of Mutalisks on patrol.  She swore silently and returned the eyepiece to the default setting, praying quickly and broadly to whatever gods there were to speed up the painting process. 

Beep.

The ghost stood quickly, switching off the laser sight and swinging the canister rifle onto her back in a smooth, practiced gesture.  Things were going to get hot around here, and she didn't want to be anywhere nearby.

\=-|-=/

For the second time in as many days, Sien awoke with her mind filled with half-forgotten dream fragments and a vague sense of unease.  It took her only moments this time to remember where and who she was.

My queen, Sien thought as she stood up and reached out with her consciousness, letting it drift out from the command pod and into the great void that stood between the planets and stars, defining their boundaries by its very non-existence.  The energies of entropy swirled gracefully around her, threatening to subsume her mind in their powerful tides.  She focused her mind, drawing a minute portion of the vast energies within her, replenishing her body and her mind.  

Refreshed, she cast her thoughts out again in front of the course the Zerg pod was streaking along, moving inexorably closer to the imprisoned Queen of Blades.  A faint, flickering consciousness she quickly discovered, one she assumed to be that of Kerrigan.  A frown turned Sien's mouth as she examined the power.  Something wasn't right; it seemed far too weak to be her queen's.  Worry creased her brow as she mentally circled the individual, her appraising glare confirming that it was indeed Kerrigan's power.  What are the…

Sien jolted backwards, her mind withdrawn into her body again, and she struggled to catch her breath.  That power…it couldn't possibly be real…

Tentatively, Sien reached out again towards Kerrigan, drawing power into her mental excursion as she went forward.  Kerrigan's mind appeared to her again, still a flickering shaft of light in the midst of a vast dark void, but there was no sign of the power she had sensed only seconds before.  How was that possible?

Suddenly, Kerrigan shrieked mentally, the effect like a harsh, biting slap to Sien's face.  What could the First Born possibly be doing to her that would affect her so?  Sien started forward again, intending to touch the mind of her leader, to comfort her if possible. 

STAY AWAY!

It was Sien's turn to shriek as she pulled completely back, her psyche reeling wildly.  Kerrigan's power was completely extinguished amidst the flare of energy she had just felt…there was no one in the universe as powerful as she…was there?

Sien shook her head, vainly trying to clear her thoughts enough to probe for Kerrigan's essence one last time.

\=-|-=/

"Ignorant Zerg beast!" a voice roared nearby Kerrigan, echoing through the chamber sonorously.

Kerrigan opened her eyes slowly again, bearing in mind what had happened the last time she had done so, and braced herself for the stabbing, painful white light that this Dark Templar seemed too fond of.  To her surprise, her open eyes afforded her no better view than when closed; apparently she was now in a chamber the antithesis of her last.  Darkness pressed in on her, thick and smothering, so unlike any other darkened room she had ever been in.  She was standing, but surely not by her own power or will; she had never felt so physically drained as she did now, and even sitting up from the floor would likely have been too much effort for her.  The dark one had probably put her in a more common stasis field, rather than the highly advanced one she had formerly been imprisoned in.

A fist hurtled silently through the darkness, crashing fully into Kerrigan's cheek.  Her head snapped around slightly, her lips contorting into a vicious snarl.  Had the Templar broken more bones?  Her ribs seemed to be healed finally, but her sluggish healing was more than just worrying her.

"Now what?" Kerrigan asked, pumping as much vitriol and hatred into her voice as she could, fueled by her rage at her entrapment and the continuous torture the First Born seemed to happily mete out.

"You know," was the simple growled reply.

Kerrigan blinked a few times as she pondered his words before she seized upon another facet of her current situation.  "I can hear you!  How is that possible?"

The Dark Templar ignored this question, instead replying in the form of a powerful kick to her exposed abdomen, knocking the breath out of her lungs.  If the Overmind hadn't taken her tear ducts when he took her humanity, that blow would surely have brought tears to her eyes.  "You called the Zerg here somehow."

Kerrigan gasped for air for a few moments, wanting to laugh triumphantly, but instead settling for a vague, slight smirk.  "My Cerebrates are very loyal.  I had no doubt they would enact some sort of recovery effort."

"It's too soon!" the Dark Templar shot back.  Across the chamber, something clattered to the floor, leading Kerrigan to believe that the Protoss had flung something across the room out of anger.  "Far too soon!"

"Starting to get afraid, are you?" Kerrigan mocked.  "You Protoss are supposed to be intelligent, but instead you capture the leader of the most powerful race in the galaxy and hope to hold her without some form of retaliation!  Even Edmund Duke, a man who makes my Zerglings look like veritable geniuses, would know better!"

"You are blinded by your ignorance, by your purported importance."  The dark one chuckled softly, the quiet laughter seeming to reverberate in Kerrigan's mind.  "Through all your time imprisoned here, you've yet to come to terms with even the most simple, fundamental, and obvious truths."

"I know you will beg for a simple death at my hands, First Born!" Kerrigan retorted.

"There are but mere minutes before your Zerg forces arrive."

"Excellent.  I sincerely hope one of my Queens is amongst their forces; infesting you and the rest of your brethren in this miserable base will be a great pleasure for me," Kerrigan said with a feral grin on her face.

"There are none others; not in this station, nor in this sector," the Templar gravely responded.

"All the better, then!" Kerrigan said with a laugh.  "You won't offer much resistance."

"I will offer none, Kerrigan.  I don't intend to be here when your Brood arrives."

Kerrigan's brow creased slightly in confusion.  "So you're just going to let my children recover me without any struggle?"

The Templar stepped forward into Kerrigan's field of view, nodding slowly as he moved.  "I have already served my purposes."

"To imprison me for a short period of time?  What possible gain could the Protoss have from this?" Kerrigan asked incredulously.

"Your ignorance is astounding for one who has scrambled to the position of the most powerful person in your galaxy," answered the Templar.  "Listen, and much will be made clear to you."

\=-|-=/

_The steadily increasing hum emitting from the ghost's eyepiece, a plain, simple noise, was now the harbinger of annihilation for the Zerg Hive.  The ghost couldn't help but smile slightly as the countdown on her visor ticked down, and she half-wished she could watch the bastards fry when the bomb dropped._

Her feet glided effortlessly across the terrain as she ran, dodging around the twisted skeletons of fallen Goliaths, the massive, burned-out hulks of Siege Tanks.  Some of the tanks were tilted nearly completely over, their powerful treads useless to flip the vehicles over.  Bodies of fallen soldiers were everywhere.  The ghost was traveling through a plain of the dead, a long stretch of no mans land.

Scattered around liberally were the bodies of the Zerg.  Zerglings lay in massive heaps; ramparts of the dead.  A massive tusk blade of an Ultralisk was protruding from one of the Siege Tanks, its bearer lying nearby.

Death was everywhere, and in this, she was Death's chosen agent.  The Zerg would die.

\=-|-=/

"I am not what I seem.  Many things," the dark one amended, "are not what they seem."

Kerrigan tried to motion impatiently with her wing claws, only to find they were still bound by the stasis field.  Her triumphant smile had returned, and even this barrier didn't detract from it.

The Templar spread his arms out widely, his cloak billowing outwards.  "I look like a Dark Templar, do I not?  One of the devoted disciples of the void energies that fill the vast spaces between the stars, like Zeratul, or the Matriarch, or any of their number," the Templar said.  He paused for a moment. "A lie."

Kerrigan's eyes widened slightly.  "What do you mean?"

"I am what you would call a Xel'Naga."

"Impossible," Kerrigan said with a derisive snort. "The Xel'Naga were annihilated by the Overmind eons ago, before the Swarm even left Zerus."

"Your knowledge is filled with half-truths," the Templar said.  "To properly explain all that has happened and the current situation, and even events yet to transpire, my tale must begin before the rebirth of the Protoss as the First Born."  The dark one seated himself before Kerrigan, crossing his legs intricately, and then began to speak:

_Xel'Naga is what we have been called, and what most of us called ourselves.  Bringers of Life, Great Creators, and many more definitions the name has held, for the word exists in nearly every tongue spoken in this sector of the galaxy._

Thousands, or perhaps even millions of years before we began the shaping of Aiur, a rift formed amongst my people.  Most of us were content with our mission as it had been for ages innumerable; to create and spread sentient life to all reaches of the galaxy, to unite it in a glorious harmony of peace.  Some eventually tired of our benevolent ways, wanting instead to rule over the life we created with an iron fist, demanding tribute and worship.  The rift grew wider and wider over the eons, until finally the warmongers were cast out from the Xel'Naga.

The outcasts named themselves the Xel'Dor.  None of the sentient tongues has ever had a definition for the word, but amongst the Xel'Naga, they were later referred to as the Bringers of Death, for that could be the only result of their warlike nature.

Surprisingly, the Xel'Dor disappeared almost as soon as they were exiled.  Though that should have worried my people, Aiur was located shortly after their disappearance, and became our great work.

The Protoss, or their predecessors, held vast potential.  The race had evolved without mouths or ears, communicating psionically between themselves, and took their nourishment directly from psi energies.  My people had only found a scant few races able to innately control psi energies, and none to the extent the Protoss could.

The protocols of shaping were initiated upon the nascent Protoss, slowly evolving them from pre-sentient life to full sentience.  The Protoss emerged a race pure in form, able to control psi energies second only to my own people.  We revealed ourselves to the Protoss and began to insinuate ourselves in their lives.  For a time, we were both at peace.

Then something began to change.  Some of the Protoss leaders began demanding access to technologies and abilities, but they should never have known we held them.  We tried to placate the First Born, but we failed.  A large fraction of the First Born attacked my people, charging at our great starships with weapons made of primitive metals.

We were forced to defend ourselves.  Hundreds of First Born fell to our weaponry, and we quickly gathered our people from the various provinces and returned to orbit.  As our starships rotated around Aiur, we watched with great sadness as war continued to spread across the face of the verdant planet, raging from horizon to horizon.  What had caused this madness?

The Xel'Dor.  It was the obvious answer.  They presumably still looked like we did, and the Protoss wouldn't have known the difference between our two races.  Aiur was lost to us now, as were our children.  Our hearts were filled with despair as we left orbit, left the Protoss to squabble amongst themselves.  There was nothing we could do to save them.

We traveled for a long time, jumping between the stars, searching for another planet that held the potential Aiur had possessed.  Eventually, we found Zerus.

It was a foreboding world, bearing no similarity whatsoever to the lush forests that carpeted Aiur from sea to sea;  a charred, dirty world where little life had made the effort to survive on.  The dominant life form, surprisingly enough, was a parasite.  Never before had we come across a planet with a life form as unique as the Zerg, or at least your predecessor.

The Templar paused for a moment, seeming to rearrange his thoughts.  "I believe I can move forward through the evolution of your species; much was made clear to your Overmind, I presume."

Kerrigan nodded absently, turning over the story in her mind.  The Templar, or whatever he was, had promised many answers, but this tale seemed to create more questions than the very few she had had before.  "How do I know you're telling me the truth?" she asked quietly.

"What gain could come of what I've told you so far?" the dark one responded.  He waited for a reply for a moment, and then continued his story.

_Your race was the more perfect of the two primary races we assisted; where the Protoss had held purity of form, the Zerg held purity of essence.  Our leaders, made cautious from our failure with the First Born, chose not to reveal ourselves to the Overmind, and instead we hid ourselves behind the moon of Zerus.  Our instruments were trained upon Zerus at all times, continuously monitoring for any sign of the Xel'Dor._

A number of my people began to suggest an expedition to Aiur, in the hopes that the First Born had thrown off any influence the Xel'Dor had over them.  Our leaders agreed to this mission, and dispatched a third of our force to investigate Aiur.

Clearly, this was the opening the Xel'Dor had been waiting for.  As our ships hid in the shadow of the moon, hundreds of black ships emerged from the darkness directly above Zerus.  The secret veil we had covered the Overmind with was torn violently away as the Zerg awoke to find a battle brewing above.  It is at this time the Overmind began drawing the predecessors to your Overlords to Zerus, silently luring them to the surface of Zerus, where they were quickly assimilated into the growing Swarm.

The Xel'Dor ships were more powerful than our own; their weapon's fire illuminated the darkness as they unleashed salvo after salvo of savage, destructive energy.  My people weathered the storm, and then moved away from the moon, wanting to end the Xel'Dor threat.  Our superior numbers began to wear down their fleet, edging us ever closer to victory over our ancestral brethren.

Then the Overmind entered the fray.  Seeing no difference between the Xel'Dor and the Xel'Naga, it unleashed the Swarm on both our peoples, crushing our weakened fleets with ease.  As each ship was disabled, clusters of Zerg dragged it down to the surface and pulled my people from our great starships.  The Overmind was only too pleased to absorb both Xel'Naga and Xel'Dor into its being, gaining access to our vast knowledge of evolutionary science and the planets in the galaxy.  Our bodies were destroyed, but somehow our minds survived within the vast Overmind.

The Overmind gave itself a grand mission to find and assimilate the Protoss, gaining access to their powerful psionic abilities.  The Overmind and the Swarm left Zerus, for the world was more barren than before, and contained no more potential for the Swarm.  So began the nomadic journeys of the Swarm.

As the Swarm sailed between the stars, the Overmind released its hold upon the Xel'Naga and Xel'Dor minds it held, and slowly like sand through fingers, we filtered out into the dark void.  Our differences were far from forgotten.  Rather, the close imprisonment had made both people resolve to destroy the other.

The dark one stopped again.  "Has this story answered many of your questions?" he asked.

Kerrigan shook her head.  "Though it is interesting, there is still much you haven't answered.  You said both the Xel'Dor and the Xel'Naga exist only as spirits now, but then how are you standing before me as a Protoss?"

The Templar smiled slightly as he answered, "Because both the Xel'Dor and the Xel'Naga have learned how to take control of a physical being.  The Xel'Dor tend to do it more forcibly than we do, though.  Before I took control of this Dark Templar, I asked his permission, and he assented."

Kerrigan nodded slightly, and then asked, "Who have the Xel'Dor taken control of?"

The Templar stood up from the floor, stretching out his legs as he moved closer to Kerrigan.  "You have known one," the dark one said quietly.  "He inhabited the body of Samir Duran."

Kerrigan gasped quietly.  It explained so much of their last meeting…

"Samir Duran was possessed before birth.  There never was a "true" Samir Duran in that body.  It gave that Xel'Dor greater power, and a much longer time to carry out his people's grand plan."  The Templar laughed bitterly.  "You were a part of it, for a time.  A pawn, like so many others in the game my people and the Xel'Dor now play."

"But Duran is dead!  I killed him myself, nearly two years ago," Kerrigan exclaimed.  "How can any plans he had still exist?"

"He was but one agent of the Xel'Dor.  The Xel'Dor have countless agents scattered amongst the Protoss and the Terrans," the Dark Templar replied simply.  "Only the Zerg are immune to their control.  You alone are the vulnerable one.  Do you remember a black crystal that came from Duran's body when you killed him?"

"I picked it up from where he was standing and crushed it in my palm," Kerrigan said.

"In doing so you played into the hands of the Xel'Dor.  The crystal would have made you susceptible to their control in time, like a disease."  The Templar gestured to Kerrigan's palm.  "I have taken steps to remove it from your body.  You are now the wild card in the coming conflict.  There is a great war brewing between the Terrans, the Protoss, and even the Zerg, orchestrated by the agents of the Xel'Dor, and brought to a head by the actions of Arcturus Mengsk, of whom you are familiar."

Kerrigan gritted her teeth, trying to drown the instant rage his name caused.  "What has that traitorous bastard done?"

"At the behest of the Xel'Dor agents, he has taken to constructing a superweapon, powerful enough to destroy the Protoss and the Zerg.  It is but a facet of the Xel'Dor plan."

"What sort of superweapon?" Kerrigan asked.

"Of this I cannot speak, and it does not matter.  The superweapon is a ruse."

"What?" Kerrigan asked in confusion.  She had been following the Xel'Naga/Protoss so far, but how could a powerful superweapon be a ruse?

"The superweapon is a distraction while the true machinations of the Xel'Dor come to pass.  The Protoss Zeratul was the one to discover the true heart of the Xel'Dor treachery," he replied.  "Again, the chosen agent of the Xel'Dor in this matter was Duran.  At the behest of his leaders, he took control of a Terran research facility, and from it came the Hybrids."

"Hybrids?  What are they hybrids of?" asked Kerrigan.

The Templar bowed his head slightly, and when he spoke again, his voice was solemn.  "The abominations are a mixture of the First Born, the Zerg, and the Terrans."

Kerrigan's eyes opened widely as she realized the power such an unholy combination would hold.  "Impossible…that's completely mad!"

"Be that as it may," the Protoss said as he lifted his head, his eyes glowing fiercely. "They have done it anyway.  Once the Hybrids are complete, the Xel'Dor will infest all of them, using them as host bodies.  All will fall before their might."

The Protoss glanced up towards the ceiling for a moment before he nodded curtly.  "Your young ward has arrived.  I will leave you now.  Think wisely on what I have told you."  He touched a small disk that was resting on his waist with one of his long, slender fingers, and then a flash of light filled the room.  Kerrigan closed her eyes to block out the harsh glare, made even more painful from the long darkness she had endured in the chamber.  When she opened them again, the Protoss was gone.

A massive crash echoed across the chamber, followed by a quiet call.  "My Queen?"

"I'm over here," Kerrigan yelled back before sighing in relief.  The Protoss, or Xel'Naga, hadn't been deceiving her after all.  Sien had managed to find her.  Kerrigan frowned slightly, her mind still sorting through all the Protoss had extolled to her.  A hybrid race that could defeat the Zerg?  The very idea seemed absurd…but still…

"Kerrigan."

Kerrigan turned slightly, her eyes meeting the exotic gaze of Sien.  "You've done well.  I think the control panel for the stasis field is in this room.  It's probably a standard field, so you can just smash the panel and it'll switch off."

Sien nodded, her Zerg minion's fanning out across the chamber in search of the panel.  "My queen…there were no defenders."

"All the easier for you, then," Kerrigan said cautiously.

"But doesn't that worry you?" asked Sien.  "It seems foolish to kidnap you and not better protect you!  You are the Queen of Blades, and without you the Swarm would fall into disarray!" 

Kerrigan started to mention the Dark Templar who had just left, but she stopped herself.  This cerebrate didn't need to know of him.  "There were some First Born vermin here a while ago, but I've been in this room for a while now.  Perhaps they fled when they learned you were coming?"

Sien blinked a few times quickly.  "A Hydralisk has found the control panel.  Be ready when the stasis field dissipates."

A brief static tingle raced over Kerrigan's skin as the field slowly diminished, and she struggled against falling forward.  How long had she been kept standing like this?  Her legs were abnormally weak, but at least her broken bones and ribs seemed to be healed finally.  How had her Zerg healing slowed so much?

"Kerrigan…are you alright?" Sien asked.  "Can you walk?"

"I'll be fine, Cerebrate," Kerrigan said as she stepped off of the platform and onto the cool metal floor.  Her wing claws stretched out widely as they tried to reacquaint themselves to not being cramped inside a stasis field.  "We need to get out of here.  I don't trust the First Born too much," she lied.  "Knowing them, they probably rigged this station to explode."

"Very well, my Queen."  Sien gestured slightly ahead, her Zerg servants already charging out of the door.  "Let us leave, then."

\=-|-=/

Thank you everyone who read this chapter; it has honestly been single-handedly the hardest chapter to write thus far.  My writing style changed slightly twice in the writing of this chapter, and, though I think HND is the better for it, it was frustrating to write and then go back and read the first half and say to myself "Wow, that really bites!".

Many thanks to friends Jaxom92 and 3ternity; I couldn't have finished this chapter without your continued words of approval and outright praise.

And, of course, many thanks to you, Reader.  If you can, and have a moment to spare, please leave me a review with any suggestions you have, comments, or whatnot; all of them are very valuable to me as I continue this story.

  
Many apologies that this chapter took so long to write, but in the end, it was really worth it.  It is the longest one I've written thus far, and in my opinion, the best one I've done to date for HND.

If you like this story, check out __, a haven for writers who are far more skilled than I.

Fight on,

Dark-Elk


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